


the wreck we made

by tmylm



Series: the wreck we made [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Abortion, Angst, Discussion of Abortion, Established Bechloe, Established Relationship, F/F, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23369305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: Beca and Chloe have been together since the age of twenty. A series of fights followed by a four month breakup sees them having to deal with bigger consequences than either had ever imagined.This is going to span over varying time periods over the last eight years; please read whose eyes each chapter is told through, and the timeframe!Fic title from Marshmello ft. Bastille'sHappier.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell, Stacie Conrad/Aubrey Posen (side)
Series: the wreck we made [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701175
Comments: 349
Kudos: 308





	1. tears in our eyes from holding too tight

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title from Demi Lovato's _Smoke & Mirrors_.

#  _Beca — Present._

In the grand scheme of things, the way the edge of the dingy bathtub digs uncomfortably into the backs of her thighs is really the least of Beca’s worries. It really _is_ uncomfortable, but in reality, it is not the reason behind the way she continuously shifts positions the way she does. Her hands shake almost violently as they rest in her lap, while her dark stare fixates strongly on the yellow wall across from her.

Beca had never really liked that color.

Chloe had.

Beca is entirely lost in her own thoughts—thoughts that stem much deeper than her dislike for the pastel shade of the bathroom wall. She is so lost, in fact, that as her phone’s timer buzzes intrusively in her hands, she jumps to the point of the device flying right out of her loose grasp. Her iPhone, already cracked the whole way down the screen, lands with a thud on the tiled floor. While Beca blinks away the mist from her eyes, she doesn’t even bother to glance down at the phone, nor to cancel the timer.

The sound of her own heart beating loudly in her ears manages to almost drown it out, anyway.

Why her hand is shaking so uncertainly as she reaches out toward the counter, to the small instrument that really might as well be a loaded gun, she really doesn’t know. It is not like this is her first test, after all. In reality, while this is her second this morning, it is the fourth she has taken overall. Still, as she pulls the white and pink stick toward her, the one that is really too small to be as terrifying as it actually is, she dares herself, for just one moment, to find at least a small ray of hope somewhere within her.

It is gone in a flash, of course, considering the second her watery gaze lowers to the result window, the word _YES_ displayed almost mockingly in front of her, she knows in her heart that there is no such thing as _four_ false positives.

That does not stop her heart from crumbling all over again in a way that has become uncomfortably familiar to her by now. The same way as she had the past three times, Beca feels like someone has removed the floor from beneath her, and suddenly she is falling. She’s falling so fast, so rapidly and excruciatingly, that her stomach twists into the tightest knot, and Beca forgets, for just a second, how to breathe.

The way she finally gasps for air is through a loud, choked out sob, and while Beca wants so badly to tear her watery gaze from the stick, she can’t. Her free hand trembles as it rises toward her mouth, clamping over it in a bid to quieten herself before she has really gotten started.

This cannot be happening, especially not now. Not now that, only a week ago, she and Chloe had finally begun to reconcile. They have had their bad times, bad times that Beca knows she has contributed to immensely, but they are working them out. They have decided mutually to work everything out, because Beca is in love with Chloe, and Chloe is in love with Beca, and that is enough. That has to be enough, because Beca cannot even fathom the alternative.

The sound of her phone, of the buzzer still beeping loudly, finally registers in her ears. God, it’s so loud, everything is just so damn _loud_ , to the point where Beca feels misplaced frustration bubbling within her.

“Shut up!” She practically growls, releasing her grasp on the positive test, and instead lowering to her knees to grab her phone. Her thumb taps unsteadily at the screen, with Beca repeating, _“Shut up, shut up, shut up,”_ through the sound of unrelenting, violent sobs. Those same words continue to fall from her lips, even as she grips harshly at her now silent phone, until Beca’s hand is rising to run her fingers through her messy, unwashed hair.

Then Beca is alone. She is alone with nothing but the sound of her own desperate sobbing, with the way it echoes so unforgivingly around the small bathroom, almost taunting her. And honestly, Beca isn’t sure it is ever going to stop.

She just wants everything to stop.

Whether mere minutes or drawn out hours pass, Beca truly does not know. Eventually, though, her tears begin to slow, almost as if she has somehow cried herself out completely. The test stick lays lamely on the floor beside her, and Beca knows she does not want to have to see it anymore. So, halfheartedly, as she pulls herself up from the cold floor, she proceeds to grasp the plastic stick between her fingers, ridding of it, for now, in the small trash basket beside the toilet.

She will deal with emptying it tomorrow; she doesn’t have the energy right now.

* * *

It is still so strange to Beca, waking in the familiar double bed to stretch out and not feel Chloe’s warm body beside her. In truth, she has not been sleeping much lately, and when she does, it is usually only because exhaustion has overtaken her completely and she has passed out on the couch without prior warning.

Evidently, she had needed the sleep, though, because as Beca blinks slowly, she registers that the room around her, light before she had fallen asleep, is now cloaked in a blanket of darkness. The quiet radiating around the room, the darkness, it is almost eerie. Stretching out an arm to retrieve her phone, Beca glances briefly at the time, before her eyes instantly zero in on the iMessage notifications from Chloe.

**Chloe  
** _Are you feeling any better?  
_ _Becs??_

There is a missed call too, followed by one more iMessage notification:

**Chloe  
** _I hope this means you’re sleeping. Call me later_

Beca doesn’t even take the time to think about it as she taps on the missed call notification, immediately pulling up Chloe’s contact and hitting call. Somewhat lazily, she lifts the phone up to her ear, proceeding to push herself upright in what was once she and Chloe’s bed—Beca has every faith that it will be one they share again sometime soon.

Chloe’s voice sounds on only the second ring. As usual, it is like music to her ears. “Beca? Thank God,” Chloe says through something of a relieved sigh. “I’ve been worried. Are you okay?”

Beca’s free hand balls into a tight fist to rub at her tired eyes. “Hey, Chlo. Yeah, sorry,” she begins, registering how croaky her own voice sounds. It sounds like she has been crying—which she has—but Beca had complained of feeling unwell earlier, so she hopes she can put it down to that. She clears her throat instinctively, attempting to rid it of evidence of her emotions. “I’m okay, I was sleeping. I feel better.”

“Are you sure?” Chloe asks, and despite the fact that Beca cannot see her, she can picture the distinct expression on Chloe’s face. She can practically _see_ the frown overtaking her features, the way Chloe’s nose has wrinkled in the most stupidly adorable way. “You still sound kind of sick.”

“Yeah, no,” Beca clears her throat again quietly, fingers brushing somewhat uselessly through her matted hair. “Just tired, that’s all.”

Chloe pauses briefly, though finally relents. “Okay, if you’re sure. Have you eaten?”

“Not yet,” Beca shakes her head, beginning to peel herself lazily from the tangled sheets. There is really no point in straightening them out, though she does so halfheartedly anyway, before continuing through a yawn, “I’m gonna go see what we have in the fridge.” The word _we_ slips out automatically, though Chloe either doesn’t register it, or simply doesn’t point it out. Either way, Beca is grateful. Now slightly more aware, Beca thinks she can hear the sound of a blinker in the background, and her forehead creases in thought. “Where are you right now? Are you driving?”

Beca hadn’t registered the echo to Chloe’s voice before, likely because she hadn’t been actively listening for it. She hears it now, though. “Yeah, but I’m hands-free,” Chloe explains quickly, “Don’t worry.”

“Alright, good.”

The sound of Chloe’s soft giggle fills Beca’s ear, and it is almost embarrassing, the way it causes her heart to flutter. Chloe has always had that effect on her, right from that very first night in that overly creepy bar. “You’re cute. Do you want me to bring you by soup or something?”

Beca’s head shakes gently in response. “No, that’s okay.” Her voice softens some. “I do want to see you, though.”

It is still so strange, not just automatically seeing Chloe every day. Despite being broken up officially for around four months now, it really is not something Beca has even slightly gotten used to. Following their conversation last week, though, the one where they agreed to try again, it is not something she even _has_ to get used to anymore. Chloe will be back with her soon, Beca is sure of it. She has to be.

“I want to see you, too,” Chloe responds softly, her voice so comforting and familiar. It is enough to pull a faint smile to Beca’s dry lips, everything else momentarily forgotten. “I’m gonna call you back in a little bit, okay? I’m almost home.”

Hearing Chloe refer to somewhere that is not their home, their modest two bedroom, one bathroom house that they picked out together, as _home_ still sends a sharp pain through Beca’s chest, but she chooses not to say so. Instead, she simply nods her head in spite of the fact that Chloe cannot see her, finally heading for the bedroom door. “Alright. Drive safely,” she hesitates momentarily, “I love you.”

There is hesitation on Chloe’s end for a moment too, before she finally responds in a quiet, genuine tone, “I love you, too.”

They are getting back to normal, Beca knows they are. Those small moments, those short phrases that mean so much, they are proof enough to Beca that everything is going to be okay. She and Chloe are going to be okay again, they are going to be _them_ again, Beca knows it.

In spite of everything, she knows it.

* * *

The way Beca proceeds to pad around the house is effortless and lazy, perhaps even a little absentminded. She has been entirely out of it for weeks now, so add in her current fatigue and she is pretty much just a walking zombie. Understandable, all things considered, but alas.

She doesn’t even bother to turn on the kitchen light as she makes her way toward the fridge in search of some basic sustenance. Beca really doesn’t feel much like eating, but she has been unbelievably hungry lately—the way her stomach growls uncomfortably loudly tells her that she really has no choice.

There are a couple different options to choose from, though nothing looks appealing to her. In fact, the thought of each food item her tired gaze lands on causes her stomach to twist. Beca is lost in the thought of how she could _really_ go for a whole jar of pickles right now, which of course they are entirely out of, when the sound of knocking at the front door startles her into standing upright.

“Uh, one sec,” Beca calls, brow wrinkling as she quickly closes the refrigerator door. She is not expecting company. In fact, she doesn’t even _want_ company, but Beca pads lazily through the house regardless, mentally preparing some kind of badly thought out excuse for whoever it may be.

She does not expect to open up to the sight she does, but Beca is absolutely not complaining. In fact, she relaxes slightly on the spot, tension leaving her shoulders. A lazy grin rests naturally on her lips.

“Surprise?” Chloe grins, holding up a Panera bag. She shakes it gently. “I know you said no to the soup, but I was passing by Panera anyway. You don’t have to eat it.”

With a fond roll of her eyes, Beca reaches out to accept the paper bag. “I want the soup,” she promises, wanting desperately to lean in and press a kiss to Chloe’s lips, but Beca is not trying to move too quickly. She doesn’t know their current boundaries, despite the fact that they both just dropped the L-bomb on the phone. Regardless, her gaze lowers toward Chloe’s mouth briefly, though she makes sure to pick it back up again quickly. “You know you don’t have to knock, right?” Beca steps aside slightly, making room for Chloe to enter.

“Well, I was about two seconds from opening up and letting myself in anyway, I have to pee _so_ bad,” Chloe whines, no hesitation behind the way she leans forward to push a gentle peck to Beca’s rosy cheek, before breezing by her and toward the stairs. “I have a sandwich in there too,” she calls over her shoulder, “Grab me a plate? And don’t eat my chips!”

“You got it,” Beca chuckles quietly, gladly closing out the cold night air, before heading back through to the kitchen. Decidedly, she is in a much better mood already.

The idea to turn on the light still does not register to her—nothing much does lately—so Beca shuffles around in the darkness, fumbling around for a clean plate for Chloe and a spoon for her soup. She is in the process of stacking a couple glass tumblers one on top of the other when she hears the sound of Chloe’s quiet footsteps slowly entering the room, her prior energy having evidently dissipated already.

The sound causes Beca to glance toward Chloe. Even in the darkness, the faint glow of the night sky acting as a spotlight through the window, she can see the way Chloe’s cheerful expression has dropped considerably.

“Chlo?” Beca questions, straightening up uneasily. There is a look of concern written across her pale face, and she wishes so badly that she could properly read Chloe’s expression. It is not one Beca has ever seen before. Beca swallows thickly, eyes narrowing in on Chloe. “Hey, are you, uh—”

“I’m fine,” Chloe says dryly. Her tone is rigid and lacking any kind of emotion, though her volume is eerily quiet. The way her arms wrap somewhat protectively across her middle makes Beca want to reach out and pull her into her own arms, so Beca turns to set the plates and glasses down on the counter beside her, before Chloe continues in that same rigid tone. “Is it yours?”

“What?” Although she is entirely confused, Beca’s heart has begun to race. She may not _always_ take social cues very well, but she can read the room, especially when the other person in it is Chloe.

“That test,” Chloe continues in something of a shaky whisper, motioning halfheartedly over her shoulder and toward the stairs. “The positive one in the trash. Is it yours?”

At that, Beca’s blood runs cold. Suddenly, she is in the bathroom again, the floor caving beneath her, and she feels like she has begun to fall. Only, it is a harder pull now, it is much more intense than anything she has ever felt before. Beca opens her mouth to respond, but finds she has lost the use of her voice. She just stares, heart hammering hard inside of her chest, and feels the now familiar sensation of salty liquid prickling the backs of her eyes. “I…”

“Don’t lie to me, Beca,” Chloe continues. Her tone is much of the same as before, but there is something almost stronger to it now, more stern, in spite of the way it shakes with the threat of tears. “Is it yours?”

It is clear that she has her answer from the terrified look on Beca’s face, and Beca notes the way Chloe’s face scrunches slightly despite the fact that she turns away briefly. Beca can see the way she is trying to hold back tears. “Chloe, I’m sorry…” Beca whispers meakly, finally finding her voice. It is timid and broken, and only becomes more choked up as she takes in the sight of tears rolling heartbreakingly down Chloe’s cheeks. “It happened while we were broken up.”

Despite the fact that Chloe already had her response before Beca had even said anything, verbal confirmation causes her to bite back a broken sob, and all Beca wants to do is reach out and comfort her. It would not be a good idea, of course, though even if she wanted to, Beca finds that she can’t move. She is frozen to the spot, teary eyes trained on Chloe, on a sight she wishes she could look away from, but she can’t. It is like a trainwreck, the most heart crushing trainwreck, and Beca cannot look away. Chloe begins to compose herself slightly, though she doesn’t speak, nor does she meet Beca’s gaze. “Say something,” Beca whispers barely audibly.

Chloe’s eyes, still diverted away from Beca’s face, glisten in a way that makes Beca want to break down completely. Chloe’s tone is cold as she finally speaks. “I have to go.”

“Chloe…” Beca tries, though her voice sounds choked up and pathetic, it is entirely unlike her own. Her heart falls down to her stomach as Chloe begins to back away from her.

“I have to go,” Chloe repeats, more finality to her tone this time.

Beca wants to chase her. She wants to chase her so badly, but her feet won’t move. It is like they are suddenly made of lead, like they are weighted to the floor, and all she can do is watch helplessly as Chloe retreats toward the door.

The sound of it opening abruptly is what finally pulls Beca from her trance, and she is suddenly moving without even realizing it. The pebbled floor is painful and cold beneath her bare feet, but Beca doesn’t care. All she cares about is being able to reach out and gently grasp Chloe’s arm, stopping her from leaving. “Chloe, please,” Beca whispers helplessly, grip tightening slightly. She is afraid of her pulling away, of letting go and watching Chloe walk away from her.

“Beca, let me go,” Chloe states in a shaky voice. She is facing away from her, but Beca can tell that she is crying, she can hear it in the unsteady way she speaks.

“I can’t,” Beca tries pathetically, holding on in spite of the way Chloe attempts to shrug her off. “I’m gonna get rid of it. I am. Chloe, _please_.”

At that, Chloe seems to stiffen up. She turns on the spot, shrugging her arm more harshly from Beca’s grasp, and Beca stares up into Chloe’s teary eyes. “You think that’s a fix for this?” Chloe questions, volume raising slightly. She isn’t yelling, and still sounds somewhat emotionless, though there are slow tears streaming freely down her rosy cheeks.

“No, I—” Beca doesn’t even know what to say. Chloe was never supposed to find out about this. In fact, it was never even supposed to happen in the first place. But now that Chloe knows, and Beca cannot attempt to lie her way out of it even if she wanted to, she doesn’t know what to say. “So what do you want me to do?” She pleads weakly, “Please, Chloe, tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Whether it is Beca’s pathetic begging or the situation as a whole, Beca doesn’t know, but she sees the way Chloe has to pause to fight off more tears. She glances upward in a futile effort at composure, head shaking gently. “I want you to leave me alone,” Chloe eventually whispers unsteadily.

This time, as Chloe turns to leave, Beca knows that chasing her is useless and honestly kind of unfair. So, she just stands, arms wrapping tightly around herself in an effort to grasp for any amount of protection she can, and watches as Chloe climbs into her car.

Again, she wants to chase her, but she can’t. All she can do instead is watch as Chloe pulls away from their driveway, with Beca sobbing pathetically to herself. It is difficult to think about how they have even gotten here, how their foundations have broken down this badly.

It wasn’t always like this. They were perfect. They were so fucking perfect, and all Beca can do is cry for everything she knows she has lost—everything she isn’t sure she is ever even going to be able to get back again. A week ago, they were on the right track, they were going to be them again. But now?

How does she ever repair _this_ kind of damage?


	2. falling in love in the sweet heart of summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to 2012, in an overcrowded dive bar, where twenty-year-old Chloe Beale first laid eyes on Beca Mitchell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Florida Georgia Line's _Cruise_.

#  _Chloe — 2012._

The obvious look of utter disdain on Aubrey’s pinched face, displayed openly even from across the bar, causes Chloe to chuckle quietly to herself. These dive bars, admittedly totally overrun by college kids, are absolutely not Aubrey’s scene, but Chloe has to hand it to her, she always musters up as much enthusiasm as possible when someone (usually Stacie) suggests that they go.

Considering it is Friday night, and that this bar is pretty small in size, it really is rather crowded. Tipsy twenty-somethings, likely in the same boat as Chloe and her friends—dorm parties really do lose their appeal after freshman year—cram into the limited space, and Chloe notes the dismayed expression Aubrey shoots toward Stacie, who is unabashedly flirting around her with a guy Chloe doesn’t recognize. She catches Aubrey’s stare, and cannot help the way she giggles again quietly.

“Um, can I help you?” A somewhat timid, entirely unfamiliar voice questions, immediately catching Chloe’s attention. She glances downward to the sight of a petite brunette perched what seems to be uncomfortably on a lone bar stool, staring up at her with a quizzical expression.

“What?” Chloe questions, head tilting momentarily. She takes in the sight of the red shirt peeking out from beneath the stranger’s leather jacket, but for the most part, she is dressed largely in black. Thick black eyeliner matches the aesthetic, and Chloe thinks that she might even be slightly intimidated if she didn’t look so tiny in stature.

“Oh,” the stranger says, somewhat awkwardly clearing her throat. She turns her attention to the bottle standing on the bar before her, fingers wrapping loosely around the glass. “Nothing, sorry. I thought you were laughing.”

“Oh, I was,” Chloe nods, any hint of intimidation instantly leaving her. “But not at you. My friend is just…” She pauses to motion toward Aubrey, whose nose is still wrinkled as she attempts to side-step around the unexpected—or maybe it’s expected; it is Stacie, after all—kiss now taking place around her.

Chloe is grinning by the time the brunette stares back up at her. “Yikes,” she says, brows raising momentarily.

“Right,” Chloe smirks, though that is as far as their conversation goes. She does, however, make a point of shooting the stranger a departing smile once the bartender has handed over three fresh bottles, then proceeds to weave through the crowds and toward her friends.

“Thank God,” Aubrey groans dramatically as she stretches out a hand to retrieve one of the bottles from Chloe’s grasp. Immediately, she brings it up to her lips, chugging a decent amount. Her nose wrinkles as she pulls the bottle away, and all Chloe can do is chuckle.

“You know, we can leave if you want to,” Chloe offers, one bottle now held in each hand. Stacie is still busy with her temporary beau, so Chloe simply nudges her arm with the lip of one bottle, though she keeps her attention on Aubrey. Stacie doesn’t even part from the kiss she is currently partaking in, though she does reach out to accept the drink.

“No, it’s fine,” Aubrey says with a small shake of her head. She motions toward the bar. “Who were you talking to?”

Instinctively, Chloe glances in the same direction, gaze landing on the brunette’s profile. She notes the way she is picking at the sleeve of her beer bottle, and thinks that she looks kind of lonely for a place so full. “Some girl,” Chloe shrugs, “I was laughing at you, and she thought I was laughing at her.”

Aubrey’s nose wrinkles at the comment, the one about Chloe laughing at her, though she chooses not to say anything. “Do we know her?”

“I don’t think so,” Chloe shakes her head.

The stranger in the red shirt and leather jacket is forgotten about quickly, and Chloe slips easily into comfortable conversation with her best friend and roommate of two years, while Stacie continues to entertain her newest conquest.

* * *

“I can’t wait until June when you have an actual ID and we can go to less trashy places,” Aubrey comments with a deep frown. A nearby booth had miraculously vacated, so they had been quick to snatch it up.

All Chloe can do is smile apologetically in response. “Well, I appreciate you lowering your big adult standards for me,” she teases playfully. Both twenty-one, Aubrey and Stacie are a year older than Chloe, but when they all go out together, they have to deal with places like this one, where Chloe’s fake ID _actually_ works.

“What are we talking about?” Stacie questions cheerfully, sliding easily into the booth beside Aubrey. Her unintentionally forceful movement causes her elbow to nudge into Aubrey’s chest, with Aubrey reaching up to dramatically grasp at it in pain.

“How much Aubrey hates her life right now,” Chloe grins in amusement, shrugging off the small scowl Aubrey shoots her way.

“Aw, come on,” Stacie tries, quickly patting at the boob she has just elbowed. All Aubrey does is stare at her incredulously. “This place isn’t _that_ bad.”

Aubrey’s frown only deepens, though she straightens out her shoulders, lamely pushing Stacie’s hand away from her chest. “I need to be more drunk to agree with you,” she grumbles indignantly.

“I’m on it,” Chloe states dutifully, flattening her palms onto the table, before pushing herself up from her seat. It is perhaps a little sad, the fact that Chloe gets so much enjoyment out of actually being served alcohol at bars. She is sure the novelty will wear off when she can purchase it legally.

Chloe is already a little buzzed, though that is not why she chuckles to herself as she departs from the table. She is a bright, bubbly person in general, and her friends, no matter how different they may all be to one another, never cease to amuse her. She can hear the faint sound of the two bickering amongst themselves behind her, though it is soon drowned out by other crowds, until Chloe has once again approached the bar.

With the light sound of music humming around her, as well as the mixed conversations she isn’t really paying attention to, Chloe doesn’t really register much of anything in particular at first. She does, however, catch the tail end of what sounds like a very disgruntled conversation as she reaches the bar.

“By an hour? No— Amy, _no_. I’m done,” the voice insists sharply. Chloe glances beside her to see the same brunette from before, this time with a finger plugged into her free ear as she hisses into her phone. “I told you not to set me up with anymore people. He probably walked in here, took one look at me and left.”

Chloe doesn’t mean to look as sympathetically at her as she does, and she certainly doesn’t intend for her to see it. However, soft blue eyes drift upward to meet with her own, just as the brunette proceeds to hang up the phone. She glances away awkwardly, again wrapping her fingers around her beer bottle.

“Guys suck, huh?” Chloe pouts, tone somewhat soft. She has really never been one to mind her own business, after all, and especially not when she is (even mildly) intoxicated.

“It’s fine,” the stranger laughs dryly, eyes still fixated on her beer bottle. She offers no further conversation.

In spite of her insistence, the nonchalant air she is attempting to give off, Chloe notes a look of disappointment written across her face. Chloe, always the bleeding heart, cannot help but feel sorry for her.

“So you’re here alone?” Chloe questions, turning her body to better face the other woman.

Dark brows raise briefly, attention still on her almost empty bottle. “Looks that way.”

Chloe simply nods, though glances up toward the bartender at the sound of his voice. “Same again, Megan?”

“Yeah. Actually, make it four,” Chloe responds with a brief nod of her head. The bartender whose name Chloe doesn’t know—it’s fitting really; he doesn’t know hers either—disappears to grab her order, so Chloe turns her attention to the brunette. She doesn’t hesitate before she speaks. “Come on, I’m getting you a drink, you can come hang out with me and my friends.”

“Uh…” The stranger, on the other hand, very much _does_ hesitate, and Chloe notes the way she suddenly looks a little uncomfortable—more so than she already had, anyway. “No, that’s okay. I’m just gonna finish this then head out.”

“No,” Chloe presses with a soft shake of her head. “It’s Friday night, you’re already out. Come and hang out with us,” she pouts out her glossed lips, something the brunette seems to take note of. “Please?”

The shorter girl sucks in a breath, almost as if she is contemplating her options, before finally shrugging a shoulder. She lets out a long exhale. “Alright, yeah. Sure,” she concedes with a short nod of her head. She reaches out to pick up her bottle, finishing off the contents. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Chloe grins brightly, accepting the fresh drinks from the bartender. She picks up one in each hand, then motions the other girl to retrieve the others, before gesturing toward their booth. “We’re over here.”

It is entirely like Chloe to latch onto a stranger in a bar—she has never had any problems with being upfront—so neither Aubrey nor Stacie looks too confused as they see the way a newcomer is now trailing along behind her. Chloe slots back into her seat, handing one of the bottles across the table to Aubrey.

“Who’s this?” Stacie questions in a friendly tone, head tilting slightly as she eyes their new addition.

“This is…” Chloe pauses, watching as the shorter girl stands beside the table, as if she is unsure as to whether to actually sit or not. It occurs to her that she hasn’t yet asked her name.

“Oh, right, me,” the brunette nods, handing over one of the two bottles to Stacie, who accepts it with a wink. “Beca.”

“Beca,” Chloe echoes breezily, as if somehow testing out the name. She decides that it suits her.

“Sit down, Beca,” Stacie offers, gesturing toward the seat in the booth beside Chloe. As soon as she sits, Stacie reaches out a hand across the table to shake Beca’s—very formal for a dive bar, but Chloe appreciates her friends welcoming in their newcomer. “I’m Stacie.”

Beca responds with a small smile, reaching to tuck a chunk of long hair behind her ear. Chloe notes the way her ear glistens with multiple piercings, something she sees Aubrey staring at pointedly from the corner of her eye.

“I’m Chloe,” Chloe states cheerfully, then motions toward Aubrey, “And this is Aubrey.”

Beca’s brows knit momentarily as she stares between the two, before pointing over her shoulder toward the bar with her thumb. “Wait, didn’t that dude call you Megan?”

Stacie snorts in response, catching Beca’s somewhat confused gaze, before she seems to realize. Her head nods slowly, attention turning back toward Chloe. “Fake ID?”

“Afraid so,” Chloe shrugs innocently, long fingers wrapping around her bottle.

“Got it,” Beca chuckles quietly, “If he asks, I’m Lindsey.”

“I prefer Beca,” Chloe comments, bringing the bottle up to her mouth and taking a sip. Her lips curve upward at the corners, gaze lingering on Beca’s face. Chloe notes the way Beca’s pale cheeks seem to darken slightly, though she responds with a sheepish smile of her own.

Chloe doesn’t pay attention to the shared glance between Aubrey and Stacie.

* * *

Despite the fact that Beca had not seemed entirely into the idea of hanging out for even one drink at first, she seems to relax quickly. The more drinks they sink back, the more open Beca becomes, and Chloe notes that, despite being an overly smiley person in general, her cheeks literally ache from laughing so much. Beca is hilarious and adorable, something Chloe makes a point of telling her. Beca responds with a playful eye roll, though Chloe notices her cheeks flushing crimson, and it is clear that she enjoys the compliment.

Chloe is a people-person, and very much a fiercely loyal friend, though she does admittedly tune out Aubrey and Stacie some as she loses herself in easy conversation with Beca.

Fortunately, Stacie doesn’t abandon Aubrey for any new guys, so neither seems to mind.

By the time Aubrey clears her throat to address the table, Chloe is deep in playful, giggly conversation with Beca. She swats at her arm lightly as Beca refers to her teasingly as Megan.

“Chloe,” Aubrey states, finally grabbing Chloe’s attention. Both Chloe and Beca’s heads snap in her direction. “We’re going to head out, are you coming?”

It is almost an automatic response for Chloe to dutifully nod her head, though she pauses as her drunken gaze catches Beca’s. It is without thought that Chloe instead softly shakes her head, bringing her line of sight toward Aubrey. “No, I think I’m gonna hang out here a little bit,” she says, head tilting toward Beca, who does not seem to disapprove.

Aubrey frowns momentarily, pointed glare eyeing both Chloe and Beca, before finally nodding her head. “Okay. Well, will you please call me when you’re leaving so I can get you a ride?”

Chloe chuckles softly at that, auburn brows tugging neatly together. “I can order my own ride, Bree.”

Aubrey, decidedly the leader of their small group—and entirely protective; a quality Chloe adores—sniffs, before straightening out her shoulders. Her neat blonde curls flow uniformly across her shoulders, and it is clear that she is the most sober of the four. “I would feel better if you let me do it.”

Chloe relents easily. “Okay, fine. I’ll call you,” she promises, flashing a smile toward her friends as they slip from the booth.

Stacie shoots her a somewhat smug, knowing glance in passing, and Chloe hears her mumbling to Aubrey, “ _If_ she comes home.”

Chloe ignores the comment, biting back her own amusement as her attention shifts naturally back toward Beca. She takes note of the way Beca is studying her, and Chloe easily holds eye contact. “What?”

“Nothing,” Beca shrugs lamely, though she doesn’t pull her gaze away. Her body is twisted to face Chloe, elbow resting comfortably onto the table. Her palm cradles her cheek, and Chloe grins at the way Beca seems so relaxed in comparison to their initial meeting. “You just have pretty eyes.”

Almost mirroring Beca’s stance, Chloe leans an arm casually on the table, turning her body easily to better face Beca. Her teeth sink down lightly onto her lower lip, though there is a comfortable smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah?”

“Mm,” Beca hums, stretching out her free hand to delicately twirl a loose auburn curl around her finger. “Pretty hair, too.” She stares somewhat dreamily, the same way Chloe is looking back at her in return. She seems to freeze momentarily, but doesn’t pull her hand away. “That’s not, like... weird, right?”

Chloe responds with a quiet chuckle, head shaking gently. She notes the way Beca’s shoulder relaxes slightly. “You know, fuck that guy for blowing you off tonight,” Chloe frowns, drunken stare still locked with Beca’s. “His loss.”

Beca’s head nods lazily. “Right,” she agrees, words somewhat slurred. “Fuck him. Totally his loss.”

Chloe leans a little closer, though there is still a small gap between them. Beca doesn’t retreat, and Chloe notes the way her gaze lowers briefly toward her mouth. Chloe responds with a slightly darkened stare of her own, devilish grin stretching across her lips. “My gain?”

* * *

As it turns out, Chloe leaves the bar pretty soon after Aubrey and Stacie. In fact, they are in the process of pouring themselves a glass of wine in the kitchen, as if they have only just gotten settled, when Chloe crashes loudly through the door.

“Shh,” Beca giggles much less quietly than she probably realizes, desperate fingers hastily gripping at Chloe’s hips. In turn, Chloe grasps at the lapels of Beca’s leather jacket, cutting her off with a less than calculated kiss to full, inviting lips. Beca easily reciprocates.

“Chloe?” Aubrey’s voice sounds from behind them. Chloe pulls back quickly from the kiss, though keeps tightly hold of Beca’s jacket, head snapping in Aubrey’s direction. Aubrey’s arms are folded across her middle, deep stare burning harshly into them. “I thought I told you to call me.”

“Relax,” Stacie chuckles breathily, appearing casually with her glass of wine. Her amused gaze is locked on Chloe and Beca. “She’s home, she’s fine. Come on,” Stacie continues, reaching out to gently grasp Aubrey’s arm. Aubrey looks like she is about to say something else, though Stacie makes quick work of tugging her back toward the kitchen, while Chloe quickly turns to capture Beca’s lips with her own once again. She hears an amused, “Night, you two,” drift from the kitchen, before the door is closing, and Chloe’s focus is entirely on Beca.

It is not unheard of for Chloe to leave a bar with someone that had been a perfect stranger to her only hours prior, but there is something incredibly needy about the way she tugs Beca up the stairs and toward her room. She doesn’t normally _need_ other people the way she needs Beca, and Chloe notes an unmistakable spread of heat creeping between her legs. Her thighs clench in an effort to quell it some, though it is done to no avail.

They are a mess of discarded jackets and shirts, clothing flying haphazardly as they make their way unsteadily, entirely consumed by one another, up to Chloe’s bedroom. Chloe doesn’t even bother to turn on the light, and instead just grips onto Beca’s now bare waist, tugging her through the door and toward the neatly made bed.

It certainly does not stay neatly made for long.

Both are anything but quiet as they crash onto Chloe’s mattress, Beca on her back and Chloe easily straddling her thighs. Beca’s head tilts back readily as Chloe leans down to press her parted lips to the warm, inviting skin of Beca’s exposed neck, the contact pulling an instant whimper from Beca’s throat in response.

For her part, Beca reaches eagerly behind Chloe’s back to fumble with the clasp of her bra, before short nails are dragging over smooth skin, and Chloe lets out a soft, muffled hiss at the gentle force.

It could be argued that they are both too drunk to really be doing this, but Chloe finds that sex with Beca is incredibly sobering in the most wonderful way. By the time she wakes the next morning, tangled in a naked, comfortable mess with Beca, Chloe does so without an ounce of regret.

More importantly, the lazy smile Beca shoots her way as her lids flutter open, sleepy gaze landing on Chloe’s face, tells Chloe that she has absolutely no regrets, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re reading from start to finish and want to include the additional one-shots in order, now is where [We Could Be More Than Just Part-Time Lovers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23631553) would come in.


	3. bask in the glory of all our problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe deals with the aftermath of Beca’s news, and Aubrey gives her some important things to think about.
> 
> Chapter Staubrey-inclusive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Julia Michaels' _Issues_.

#  _Chloe — Present._

How Chloe even makes it home—Aubrey and Stacie’s home—safely is some kind of miracle, because she truly does not remember the drive. It is almost like she is drunk, like she’s floating and spinning uncontrollably, and Chloe feels like she has to gasp for air as she all but stumbles through the front door.

Beca’s face, that look of pure devastation written deeply across it, flashes before her eyes. The sound of her desperate pleading rings so loudly in her ears, tormenting her entirely. Nothing about this situation is fair, absolutely nothing, and Chloe cannot properly process it.

She registers the sound of Bella’s voice, distorted and concerned, before Stacie is quickly ushering her away. She hears a soft, _“Mom, is Aunt Chlo okay?”_ but it sounds echoey and distant somehow. It is the feeling of soft hands cupping delicately at her cheeks that brings Chloe back to reality, that pulls her from her sobbing, dramatic whirlwind.

“Chloe,” Aubrey says sharply, trying to pull Chloe’s attention. Her tone, while still strong and concerned, softens once Chloe’s teary gaze has finally focused. “Chloe, what happened?”

“I—” Chloe tries, though she honestly doesn’t even know what to say. Beca is her Beca. Beca has always been _her_ Beca, just like Chloe is Beca’s Chloe. But this… This isn’t her thing to tell. This isn’t Beca and Chloe’s thing, this is Beca and someone else’s, and the thought causes a sharp twist inside of Chloe’s stomach.

“Sweetie, what is it?” Aubrey prompts gently, delicate hands dropping toward Chloe’s arms. Her fingers wrap securely around them, beginning to guide her slowly toward the living room. Chloe still feels like she is floating until she is safely positioned on the couch, with Aubrey seated closely by her side. Aubrey takes Chloe’s hands protectively in her own, forcing her to continue to focus.

“I… Can’t tell you,” Chloe says weakly, feeling entirely pathetic—not necessarily for the total breakdown in front of Aubrey and Stacie’s six-year-old, though that is a factor. The fact that she can’t even talk to Aubrey about all of this just feels so pathetic and dramatic, and Chloe chokes out another sob as Aubrey releases one hand. She settles her palm against Chloe’s back, fingers rubbing against it soothingly.

“Chloe, I’m concerned,” Aubrey states, the worry in her familiar blue eyes registering quickly. Aubrey has always been a great source of comfort for Chloe, ever since meeting in Chloe’s freshman year of college. “You have to talk to me.”

“It’s not my thing to tell,” Chloe whispers, a certain look of pleading in her gaze as it meets with Aubrey’s.

“Chloe, if it’s affecting you this badly, I think it is,” Aubrey prompts delicately, worried eyes still searching Chloe’s.

This really is not Chloe’s business to divulge, but with Aubrey looking at her the way she is, with Chloe feeling the way she does, she knows it is useless to try to keep it to herself. Chloe licks over her lips, the taste of her own tears salty and bitter against her tongue. “You can’t say anything,” she begs, gaze flickering momentarily toward the door. She knows it is unfair of her to ask Aubrey to keep anything from Stacie, but this is… It’s big.

Aubrey dutifully nods her head, waiting for Chloe to go on.

As she speaks, her voice is hoarse and strained, words just above whispered. “Beca’s pregnant.”

Saying so out loud causes Chloe to choke back another loud sob. While Aubrey seems momentarily shocked, her focus is evidently on making Chloe feel better. She begins to rub at her back again, tone soft as she speaks.

“What? How can…” Aubrey trails off.

Chloe softly shakes her head. “I don’t know, I guess she slept with someone while we were… I don’t know. I just saw the positive test in the trash. God,” Chloe pauses, free hand lifting to cover her teary eyes. Aubrey doesn’t push, she just waits out Chloe’s quiet crying. “You should’ve seen her face, Bree,” she whispers, shaky hand falling down into her lap again. Her watery gaze drifts toward Aubrey’s face. “She was terrified. She’s terrified.”

“It’s a scary thing,” Aubrey agrees in a soft tone, head nodding gently. “Especially when it’s not planned.” She pauses to suck in her bottom lip in thought. “Right now you’re my concern though, Chlo.”

All Chloe can do in response is quietly cry. “How do we come back from... Last week we were—” There is a pleading look in her misty eyes as she looks to Aubrey desperately for the impossible answer. Her words are small and choked up. “I don’t know how we come back from this.”

Understandably, Aubrey doesn’t have a solution. What solution _could_ she even have? So, she simply stretches out a long arm as Chloe buries her face against the fabric of her shirt, pulling her into a comforting hug, and allows Chloe to let out her emotions.

* * *

Despite the fact that Chloe has not touched a drop of alcohol in about a week, she wakes to a feeling she can only liken to a hangover. In truth, she doesn’t even remember going to bed, but the drapes are closed and her shoes and jacket have been removed, so evidently Aubrey had helped.

The light in the room is faint, and Chloe doesn’t know what time it is, but she does know it’s daytime. There is a second soft knock at the door, the first evidently being the one to have roused her, followed by Bella’s small voice, “Aunt Chlo?”

Hand rising to rub over her tired eyes, Chloe pushes herself upright as best as she can. “Yeah, sweetie, I’m awake,” she calls in a croaky voice, straightening out the sheets around her. She is still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. “You can come in.”

Bella, usually a perfect, confident mixture of both of her mothers, pushes open the door somewhat meekly, and Chloe cannot help but feel guilty as visions of the previous night flash through her mind. While Chloe wears her heart on her sleeve, she would never normally break down in front of a child, but last night had been rough, she had been in a tailspin that she could not control. She offers Bella the warmest smile she can manage now, though.

“Mama and I made you breakfast,” Bella explains, shuffling toward the single bed. She holds a tray of homemade breakfast food, and Chloe stretches over to take it from her appreciatively. Bella pauses momentarily, before climbing up onto the edge of the bed. Easily, Chloe lifts the corner of the comforter, until Bella shuffles toward her, nuzzling into her side. Her wide eyes glance up toward Chloe’s face. “Are you still feeling sick?”

At least Bella doesn’t know the actual reason for Chloe’s breakdown. At six-years-old, she is much too young to understand anyway, Chloe is sure of it. It is certainly not a conversation for her.

“I’m a little better,” Chloe lies, offering a weak smile down toward her.

Amongst the food, there is an assortment of fresh fruit, and Chloe chuckles softly to herself as she notes the way Bella is eyeing the grapes. “Take some,” she says, much to Bella’s delight.

A couple grapes held in her small fist, Bella wriggles away from Chloe’s side, until she is standing beside the bed. “Mama’s taking me to school, but she said to tell you she’ll be back soon. And she emailed work for you.”

“Alright,” Chloe nods, her soft smile a genuine one as she watches Bella make her way toward the door. She definitely does not feel like smiling, but it is difficult to be too caught up in her own feelings when there is an adorable six-year-old to keep her company. Honestly, Chloe—an elementary school music teacher—loves children, she would be more than happy to have them with Beca, but not like this. She musters the strength for a cheerful voice. “Have a great day at school, Bells.”

Bella grins brightly, before stepping out of the door and closing it gently behind her. Chloe listens to her fast footsteps hurrying toward the stairs, her smile fading as she glances down to the tray of food in her lap. She doesn’t feel much like eating, but she appreciates the thought regardless.

The battery on her phone, she finds, is almost dead, but there are of course multiple message notifications from Beca. Chloe almost doesn’t want to read them, the thought of doing so causing her to feel physically sick, but curiosity gets the better of her.

**Beca  
** _Chlo, please  
_ _We have to figure this out  
_ _We’re gonna figure this out_

Two missed calls precede the next three messages:

**Beca  
** _I love you  
_ _You have to know how sorry I am, Chloe  
_ _Please call me_

It breaks her heart to set down the phone without responding, but honestly, Chloe is just not ready.

* * *

By the time Aubrey returns home from dropping Bella off at school, Chloe has yet to move. It feels like those first steps after she and Beca’s breakup, like she is right back to square one again. For at least a week afterwards, save for work—something she doesn’t have to worry about today thanks to Aubrey—Chloe had not left this exact bed. She also had not eaten, so despite the momentarily scrutinizing look Aubrey shoots toward the still full tray now resting on the end of the bed, she doesn’t seem too surprised.

“How are you feeling?” Aubrey asks gently, making her way toward the bed. Slowly, she lowers herself onto the edge of the mattress beside Chloe. Chloe hates the sympathetic look Aubrey shoots her way, but she understands it.

“Honestly?” Chloe mumbles, knowing Aubrey doesn’t even need an answer. Aubrey responds with a sorrowful look, one that has Chloe diverting her gaze toward the tray of food. “That was nice of you guys, making me breakfast. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Aubrey nods simply, her smile still somewhat sympathetic. “Not feeling so hungry, huh?”

All Chloe does is weakly shake her head, and Aubrey does not push.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe sighs quietly, “About last night. I shouldn’t have behaved like that in front of Bella.”

“No,” Aubrey shakes her head, shuffling a little closer. “We just told her you weren’t feeling so good. She’s fine, she understands.”

Chloe’s small smile in response is an appreciative one, though she still cannot help but feel guilty. About many things, in fact—burdening Aubrey and Stacie with all of this, scaring Bella, and of course the as of yet ignored messages from Beca on her phone.

“Beca texted me,” Chloe says in a small voice. There is a look of intrigue on Aubrey’s face in response. “She called me, too.”

“Oh?” Aubrey asks, watching as Chloe reaches for her phone. “Did you answer?”

“No,” Chloe whispers, unlocking the screen to open up she and Beca’s text message thread. She turns the device around, showing the screen to Aubrey.

Aubrey glances over the messages, before simply nodding her head.

“Do you think I’m being an asshole?” Chloe questions meekly, sad eyes staring up toward Aubrey.

“No,” Aubrey responds easily, though there is a sympathetic edge to her tone. “I think that you’re hurting, and that you have every right to be.” Her voice quietens some, a brief pause preceding her words. “But I also think you have to remember that this wasn’t cheating. I know the thought of Beca with someone else is devastating, but you were broken up. I know Beca, and I know this didn’t mean anything.”

Aubrey has never been Beca’s biggest fan. She doesn’t dislike her, but she has been cautious from the beginning. So, if she is going to defend Beca, she has to truly mean it.

“No, I know,” Chloe says through another small sigh. “It’s not a cheating thing. I mean, yeah, I hate the thought of Beca with anybody else, I’m trying so hard _not_ to think about it.” Her lip drags in between her teeth. “But this is a baby, Aubrey. There’s another person in all of this now.” Chloe’s head shakes gently, voice somehow smaller, “I don’t know how to handle that.”

“I understand,” Aubrey says, and she does, she understands. If anyone is going to come even remotely close to understanding this particular situation, it’s Aubrey. “You two want babies together, right?”

Chloe’s brows knit slightly, a sharp ache shooting throughout her chest. “Well, yeah, of course. But not like this.”

Aubrey’s continued look of sympathy is justified now, all things considered. “Sometimes things just work out in funny ways,” she says softly, shoulder shrugging gently. “Stacie and I didn’t choose to have Bella together, but she’s my daughter. I’m her mama.”

“Right,” Chloe nods in understanding, “But Stacie got pregnant before…” Chloe cuts herself off with a deep exhale. “They’re just very different situations.”

“I know,” Aubrey agrees, stretching out a hand to delicately push Chloe’s matted curls behind her ear. “It’s something the two of you have talked about before, though. A family.” Aubrey’s soft smile is a little more neutral now. “Maybe it’s just something to think about.”

* * *

#  _Chloe — 2014._

“You know I can see you, right?” Beca’s low voice grumbles softly. In spite of herself, her concentrated gaze never leaves her computer screen. Regardless, there is an amused smile tugging at her lips, one that Chloe easily mirrors.

“I wasn’t trying to hide,” Chloe shrugs, pushing herself quickly up from the doorframe to properly enter Beca’s dorm.

A perk—Beca would beg to differ—of Beca’s father working as a professor at the school means that Beca gets free housing in a single dorm, despite the fact that she is now a senior. Private accommodation is expensive, so while Beca very well _could_ rent somewhere, Chloe considers it a smart move for her to take advantage of the freebies.

Door swinging closed behind her, Chloe breezes toward Beca’s desk, where Beca is hunched over her computer with her large headphones cupping her ears. “What’cha working on?” Chloe questions, leaning down to push a gentle peck to Beca’s rosy cheek. She sees the way it reddens in response. The sight pulls a smug smile to Chloe’s lips.

“Something new,” Beca responds vaguely, though she proceeds to lower her headphones until they are resting around her neck. Her arms instantly stretch out as Chloe settles herself comfortably in Beca’s lap, small hands wrapping around her waist.

The mix, Chloe sees following a brief glance toward the screen, is so far untitled. “Can I hear?”

Beca stiffens slightly at the question. “Uh, it’s really new. Like, early stages. It doesn’t really sound like much of anything yet,” she admits, though Chloe simply shoots her a frown over her shoulder. It is entirely like Beca to downplay her own creations.

Beca responds with a small frown of her own, forehead wrinkling slightly, before reaching up to pull her earphones from around her neck. She lifts them to instead settle the cups comfortably over Chloe’s ears.

“This one?” Chloe asks, cursor hovering over the play button—probably an obvious choice, but Beca’s equipment is generally complicated. For all Chloe knows, she could be totally wrong.

“That one,” Beca nods, so Chloe quickly hits play, the sound of overlapping tracks beginning to fill her ears. Beca’s arms tighten comfortably around her waist, and a soft smile spreads across Chloe’s lips as she listens to Beca’s early-stages creation.

Chloe hums contentedly to herself as the music fades out, reaching up to delicately remove the headphones. She sets them down gently onto the desk, selfishly wanting Beca’s full attention. “How are you so talented?” Chloe smirks over her shoulder, soft hands seeking out Beca’s.

All Beca does is shrug modestly in response, soft lips pressing a chaste kiss to Chloe’s shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d see you today.”

“Mm,” Chloe shrugs, head tilting naturally as Beca’s lips begin to graze softly toward her neck. “Well, I was passing. I just went to see Stacie, she said she had some big news.”

“Oh, so I’m an after-thought?” Beca teases, chin resting lightly against Chloe’s shoulder.

Chloe grins in response, shuffling slightly to turn in Beca’s lap until she is straddling her thighs. Beca relaxes back into her desk chair, small hands settling delicately against Chloe’s lower back. “You, love of my life,” Chloe smirks, arms lifting to loop loosely around Beca’s neck, “Are never an after-thought.”

“Better not be,” Beca mumbles, her mouth curving upward as she stretches her face forward to accept the small kiss Chloe pushes to her lips.

Two years into their relationship, and they are still just as sickeningly in love, still so terrible at keeping their hands to themselves, as they had been right at the very beginning. It is something Chloe never takes for granted, and her dreamy stare Beca’s way silently voices as such.

“What was the news?” Beca questions conversationally, tips of her fingers brushing delicately along the soft skin of Chloe’s lower back, where the fabric of her shirt has risen slightly.

Chloe pauses at that, realizing she probably shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Then again, she trusts Beca, so with a wrinkle of her nose, she easily relents. “Okay, I don’t know if it’s a secret or anything, so you can’t tell anyone,” she begins, shooting Beca a serious glance. Beca’s brows knit slightly, though she responds with a soft nod of her head. Chloe lowers her voice, despite the fact that they are the only two in the room. “Uh, Stacie’s pregnant.”

“Oh, whoa…” Dark brows raise at that, the look of horror drawing itself across Beca’s face somewhat amusing to Chloe.

“I mean, I don’t think she’s sad about it,” Chloe chuckles. “It wasn’t planned, and she doesn’t know who the dad is, but she’s okay. She seems pretty happy about it, in fact.”

“Right,” Beca nods, though there is still an unmistakable look of disdain etched across her pale features. “I guess just… Rather her than me.”

Chloe’s blue eyes brighten in amusement, gentle chuckle falling from her lips. “Wow, okay, remind me not to accidentally get you pregnant,” she teases, shooting Beca a quizzical glance.

Beca responds with a playful roll of her eyes. “Shut up, you know what I mean. Babies are…” She openly shudders at the thought.

“You don’t like babies?” Chloe questions, head tilting slightly.

Beca’s shoulder shrugs lamely. “They’re fine, they’re just kind of annoying, I don’t know.”

Although Chloe giggles softly, her lips jut out into a small pout. “Aw, so you don’t want babies with me?”

A dark brow arches at that, with Beca looking up at Chloe in amusement. “I didn’t say that.” Her arms tighten slightly, tugging Chloe’s body closer to her own. Chloe’s arms naturally tighten, too. “That’s something you think about?”

Chloe gently shrugs in response. Of course it’s something she thinks about. A future with Beca, a family, it is something she really cannot help but think about. They may only be young, but Chloe knows that Beca is it for her. She has known it since that first night two years ago, Beca is her person. And she knows that she is Beca’s, too.

Beca’s breathy chuckle is light as she leans up to push her lips delicately to Chloe’s. “You’re adorable, Chlo,” Beca murmurs, “I like that you think about things like that.”

“You do?” Chloe questions, her slight surprise evident.

“Mhm,” Beca nods, hands traveling further up the smooth skin of Chloe’s back. “I’ll totally have babies with you someday. Just… No time soon.”

Chloe chuckles softly in response, head nodding shortly. “Deal.”


	4. drowning in my loneliness, how long must i hold my breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca tries to pretend she is living a different reality, but ultimately she can’t. She misses the way the house felt when Chloe was still there with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Alana Grace's _Black Roses Red_.
> 
> Smut warning.

#  _Beca — Present._

Vomiting is a pregnancy symptom, Beca knows that. Everyone knows it, in fact. She is unsure as to whether that is the reason she currently sits with her head over the toilet, though, uncomfortably bringing up whatever small amount of food she has managed to eat over the last few days, or whether it has been brought on by her constant, desperate onslaught of tears.

To say that she is tired would be an understatement. Beca is exhausted, her body is entirely weak, and this certainly is not helping.

While she thinks that she is done for now, that there is nothing left inside of her to come out, she couldn’t stand upright even if she wanted to. Instead, Beca leans back defeatedly against the side of the bathtub, legs stretched out in front of her, and attempts to finally catch her breath.

“This can’t be happening,” Beca whispers to herself in a shaky voice, throat understandably hoarse. Before now, her worry has surrounded the fact that she is pregnant, that there is unwanted, unplanned life growing inside of her. The terrifying reality somehow pales in comparison to her worry about Chloe, though. Chloe was never supposed to find out about this, Chloe shouldn’t have to deal with this, and as Beca thinks back to her phone laid uselessly on the bed in the next room, likely void of notifications from Chloe, she is positive she has lost her.

Beca considers herself an independent person, she doesn’t like to ask for help. She’ll accept it easily from Chloe, but in general, she doesn’t like to ask for help. She realizes that she could really use some assistance in getting up from the bathroom floor now, though.

Any attempts she makes to rise only cause her weak body to ache, until Beca is letting out a frustrated, angry groan, deciding quickly to give up. Her head sags forward, and Beca glances down to the small, barely visible swell of her stomach. She swallows thickly, trembling hand instinctively resting over the tiny bump. At three months along, it is difficult to actually see anything—it is there, unmistakably to her thanks to Beca’s generally petite frame—but to anybody who doesn’t know, it could easily be mistaken for a big lunch.

Her stomach feels hard beneath her palm, and while Beca wants to feel protection of some kind, some intense ache of love because, at the end of the day, that is _her_ baby growing inside of her, she just can’t. All she can feel is anger, the kind that causes her eyes to swell with salty tears. Beca tries to blink them away, until she is gripping harshly at her stomach with both hands, nails digging painfully into her skin, and once again, she is back to sobbing uncontrollably.

At some point, Beca cries herself to sleep.

The hard tiles of the bathroom floor really do not serve as the best mattress, so by the time Beca wakes, her entire body feels stiff and painful. Her head is resting against the side of the bathtub, neck tensed and uncomfortable. The way the birds chirp gleefully outside of the window decidedly do not reflect Beca’s mood. She finds, however, that a few hours of rest and a break from throwing up help her to muster up some strength, to the point where she can finally push herself up from the bathroom floor.

It takes her a moment to stretch out her body, to regain proper feeling in her legs.

Beca wishes she was drunk, wishes that she could blame this whole disgusting scene on a terrible hangover, but that is so far from the truth.

Her joints click uncomfortably as she pads through to the bedroom, decorations in the hallway picked out by she and Chloe going entirely ignored. Her path leads her directly to the bed, though it is not for her to sleep. Quickly, Beca reaches out to retrieve her phone, a glimmer of hope bubbling within her at the idea of a possible response from Chloe.

Her heart sinks when she is met with no notifications—well, she has notifications, but none of them are from Chloe.

Beca knows she is being annoying, she knows that Chloe is actively avoiding her. But she can’t bring herself to accept it. It is without thought that the pad of her thumb taps easily on Chloe’s contact. She selects the speaker option, the loud sound of ringing taunting her as it echoes around the room. Beca glances briefly toward the mirror, catching sight of her tired reflection, and instantly looks away.

The sound of Chloe’s voice, of it cutting into the torment of the low ringing, catches Beca’s attention anyway. Instantly, she clicks off of speaker, pulling the phone up toward her ear.

“Beca,” Chloe’s voice is strained and whispered, and the sound causes Beca’s heart to crumble. No more so than the quiet words to follow do, though. “Please stop calling me.”

“Chloe, I—” Beca tries, fingers gripping more tightly onto the phone.

Chloe easily cuts her off, tone void of emotion. “Are you okay?”

Beca’s brows instantly tug tightly together, head shaking quickly. “No, I’m not okay. Chloe, we need to talk about this.”

“But you’re okay. Generally, you’re okay.”

Of course Chloe, in the middle of something so heart wrenching—entirely caused by Beca—is still worried about Beca’s general wellbeing. Beca has always known she doesn’t deserve Chloe; this only proves that to her further.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Okay,” Chloe murmurs, before the sound cuts out.

“Chloe?” Beca questions, despite the fact that she knows Chloe has already hung up. Desperately, she clings onto the phone like some kind of whiteknuckle rollercoaster, voice cracking pathetically. “Chloe, _please_.”

Defeatedly, she slowly draws the phone from her ear, wide gaze shifting to the now blank screen. The background, a picture of Beca and Chloe, is distorted by the thick tears welling up in Beca’s tired eyes.

“Fuck,” she mumbles, dropping the phone weakly down onto the mattress. Beca’s hand plants on her hip, the other cupping her forehead in frustration, before she turns to catch sight of her reflection in the mirror once again. Instantly, her watery gaze lowers to her stomach reflecting back at her, with Beca making her way slowly closer toward the vanity. Her gaze remains locked on the swell of her stomach, shaky hand rising to settle over the top of it.

Slowly, Beca turns to the side, inspecting the slightly protruding pouch in the reflection. Mentally, she tries to tell herself that there is nothing there, that this isn’t happening. Beca sucks in a breath, tensing her abdomen in the process, and for a brief moment, it looks normal again. She can pretend to herself that things are normal, that this really is not happening.

On exhale, the swell becomes visible once more, and Beca’s eyes instantly sting with the threat of new tears. Her face scrunches up just in time for a choked out sob to fall from her lips, both hands rising to cover her face. Once again, Beca is loudly crying, entirely breaking down.

It is not just a small threat of tears, not just a frustrated sting to the backs of her eyes. Beca is openly crying into her hands, loud sobbing sounds erupting from her dry throat. In general, Beca tries hard not to cry, not to openly show her emotions, but she has done so more than ever as of late, and it shows no signs of stopping.

Even as Beca uncovers her face, backing slowly toward the bed until she is sitting on the edge of the mattress, she continues to desperately sob, watery gaze cast down on her trembling knees.

There is a deafening silence around her, filling the house that used to be so loud and full of life. Beca is not crying for the life growing inside of her; once again, she is crying for everything she has lost, everything she is sure she will never get back. She doesn’t know how she let things get this bad, how things could’ve even gotten to this point.

But they have, that’s the reality. And Beca doesn’t know how to accept it.

* * *

#  _Beca — 2017._

“Oh, shit,” Beca hisses loudly, unsteady legs almost giving way beneath her. She waits for the feeling of the hard floor against her butt, accepting her inevitable fate, before strong arms are instead looping beneath her own. Chloe’s car key digs into her side slightly, but Beca will take that over literally falling on her ass.

“Gotcha,” Chloe giggles breezily, carefully lifting Beca back to her feet. “Babe, I told you just one box at a time.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” Beca lies, shuffling the three stacked boxes, the tower they make big enough to block her from actually seeing where she is going, in her arms to get a better grip. Chloe quickly grabs the top one, frowning at the sight of Beca’s head peeking out from behind the now slightly smaller—but still much too tall—tower.

While their larger furniture items will remain in storage until Beca’s father can bring them by in the rented moving truck tomorrow morning, today is their official move-in day, and both Beca and Chloe are too eager to actually wait the way they probably should.

This is their first house, their first real home that they have picked out and bought together. No renting, no landlords; it is all theirs. With two bedrooms and one bathroom, the house is small—tiny, really—but it was the best they could find within their budget, and Beca thinks it is perfect. She knows that Chloe does, too.

“Just be careful,” Chloe chuckles quietly to herself. While she is following behind Beca, therefore her face is not visible, Beca can picture her fond eye roll.

Fortunately, these are the last three boxes, and as Beca sets them down carefully onto the living room floor amongst all of the others, she frowns at the incredibly tedious thought of having to unpack.

“We can totally just live out of boxes forever, right?” Beca grumbles as her gaze scans over the still-packed clutter, her nose wrinkling in thought. Her hands plant against her hips, though the feeling of Chloe walking up behind her, of long arms snaking comfortingly around her waist, causes Beca’s stiffened body to relax.

“You’re going to make music with no equipment?” Chloe chuckles, pushing a soft peck against the side of Beca’s neck. Her voice is soft and almost sleepy-sounding, though they have the whole afternoon ahead of them yet, so hopefully she isn’t ready to crash—it is not like they even have a bed to do so on yet, anyway. “How about clothes?”

“I’ll just use the boxes as drums,” Beca frowns in response, though the next question causes a devilish grin to spread across her lips, with Beca slowly turning her body in Chloe’s arms until she can lift up to loop her own around Chloe’s neck. “We don’t need clothes.”

“No?” Chloe quirks an auburn brow, amused smirk settled onto her lips. “What about when people come over?”

Beca responds with a quick shake of her head, arms tightening gently around Chloe’s neck. “Oh, no one’s coming over,” she states simply, stretching onto her toes to push a chaste kiss to Chloe’s lips. “This is it forever now, just me and you. You’re trapped.”

Chloe’s playful eye roll, the one Beca had been able to envision so clearly only moments ago, is now shooting down at her, the sight causing Beca to grin. “You’re ridiculous,” Chloe comments, pressing another soft peck to Beca’s lips. Beca easily returns the kiss, her lips curving upward at the corners, just as Chloe breathes a soft, “I think I’d be okay with that, though.”

* * *

Their halfhearted attempts at unpacking are just that: incredibly halfhearted. It is clear that neither particularly wants to complete mundane tasks like hanging up countless items of clothing in their shared closet, or stacking silverware into the brand new separator in their cutlery drawer. All necessary things, but God, _so_ tiresome.

Fortunately, they have the music blasting from Beca’s phone to keep them company, as well as each other, so those mundane tasks become a little easier as the day goes by. Eventually, however, with the sky darkening outside of the window, Beca decides that she has had enough, and flops onto the inflatable air mattress in the middle of their half unpacked bedroom with a petulant whine.

“If we have to keep doing this, I’m literally going to die,” Beca pouts exaggeratedly, pushing herself up onto her elbows to watch as Chloe finally seems to relent, too.

Beca knows that Chloe is eager to get things over and done with, but she also knows how difficult Chloe finds it to resist her, so proceeds to play that particular card in her favor. Beca’s fingers stretch outward to motion Chloe closer, a silent instruction she immediately obeys, until Chloe’s knees are dipping into the air mattress either side of Beca’s thighs. Easily, Beca moves her arms so that she flops down onto her back, arms lifting up to wrap around Chloe’s neck.

“Fine,” Chloe sighs softly, hands resting delicately onto Beca’s chest. Her chin perches on top of her hands, and she glances up at the triumphant smile Beca is shooting back down toward her. “You win, we’re done for the day.” Chloe murmurs, “I’m kind of hungry, anyway.”

“Thank God,” Beca groans dramatically, head flopping back against the blow-up mattress. She ignores the gentle chuckle to fall from Chloe’s lips in response. “I’m pretty hungry, too.” Her nose wrinkles momentarily. “We don’t have any food.”

“We can just order in?” Chloe suggests, gently freeing herself from Beca’s loose grasp to instead sit up on top of her. She proceeds to reach for Beca’s phone, likely to pull up a takeout menu.

Instantly, Beca’s mouth twists in thought. “Do you think that’s such a good idea?” She notes the questioning look Chloe shoots her way. “I mean, you know, spending money.”

As Chloe sends a pointed glance down toward Beca, her subtle amusement is evident in her eyes. “I think we can stretch to one pizza delivery, Bec.”

Although Beca chooses not to argue, she cannot help but feel silently worried. This move has been expensive, their new house stretching them pretty thin. With Beca’s unsteady income, money has never been something they have been able to just throw around. She supposes she cannot really disagree right now, though. Their kitchen has yet to be stocked, so takeout is really their only option.

“Okay, pepperoni or just cheese?” Chloe asks casually, gaze down on the phone screen.

“Cheese,” Beca responds quickly, intentionally going for the cheaper option. Not that there is a whole lot of difference, but still, she wants to be smart.

“Alright, cheese it is,” Chloe nods, beginning to type in their delivery information. As she begins to read their new address aloud, Beca notes the grin stretching out across Chloe’s lips, and cannot help but easily mirror it.

“You’re so adorable,” Beca comments, dreamy gaze catching Chloe’s as Chloe finishes up and locks the screen. Chloe responds with a satisfied smirk, one that, in turn, has Beca playfully rolling her eyes. “And you know it, too,” she teases, sitting upward to carefully guide Chloe off of her lap. “We’re going grocery shopping tomorrow though, okay? No more takeout.”

Chloe pushes herself easily back up to her feet, head nodding gently in acknowledgment. She reaches down her hand to help Beca upright. “Deal.”

* * *

Almost like a makeshift at-home picnic, they spread out a towel across their carpeted living room floor—Chloe makes a point of not wanting to eat on the air mattress, since that is the only thing they have to sleep on tonight—and Beca finds that there is something incredibly sweet about the whole scene. Very cheesy, but still, totally sweet.

As she chews on her final slice of pizza, Beca doesn’t even realize there is any kind of specific expression on her face, not until Chloe points it out with a soft sigh.

“Are you still worrying about money?” Chloe questions, her tone somewhat sympathetic.

While Beca’s face wrinkles into a small frown, she also shakes her head. “I’m not really worrying, it’s more just…” She pauses, chewing on the inside of her cheek in thought. “We’re gonna be okay, right? Money-wise.”

Tossing a half-eaten piece of crust back into the now empty box, Chloe dusts off her fingers, before shuffling a little closer toward Beca. Beca does not move back, she simply watches her, taking instant comfort purely in Chloe’s presence.

“Baby, we are going to be fine,” Chloe promises, reaching out a hand to softly settle her palm against Beca’s thigh. Long fingers squeeze delicately onto it, the familiar comfort pulling a small smile to Beca’s lips in return. “Money is… It’s a big thing, I know. But it’s not everything, right? We’re gonna be fine, I promise. We’ll manage.”

Of the two, Beca has always been the most practical. Sometimes, while she won’t admit it, she just needs a little gentle reassurance, and nobody is better at providing her with that than Chloe. She appreciates it right now, and her small smile in response is a genuine one, though Chloe tilts her head slightly, almost as if she is contemplating something.

“You’re not regretting this, are you?” Chloe questions, voice now slightly smaller, almost timid even.

Instantly, Beca shakes her head. “No. God, no, absolutely not,” she assures honestly, the genuine tone to her voice evidently serving as a comfort to Chloe, whose shoulders seem to relax quickly. “You’re right,” Beca says, hand falling to land gently on top of Chloe’s, until Beca can give Chloe’s fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “We’re gonna be fine.”

They are a team. They have always been a team, and times like this, when they help each other through bouts of uncertainty, only prove that to Beca further.

* * *

It is not exactly late by the time they are done with dinner, but it has been a long day. Plus, with no other furniture, they decide that going to bed is probably the smartest move. With only one bathroom, they take turns getting ready for bed; Beca goes first, then wriggles beneath the comforter stretched out across their air mattress, waiting for Chloe to join her.

Five years with Chloe Beale, five years of calling her her girlfriend, of loving her so wholeheartedly, and Beca _still_ turns into a drooling teenage boy at the very sight of her unclothed.

Beca would be more sorry about it if she thought Chloe cared, but she knows that she doesn’t. In fact, there is a subtly smug look drawn across Chloe’s fresh, makeupless features as she struts toward their blow-up bed, and Beca knows it is because of the look in her eyes.

“You good, perv?” Chloe teases, sliding easily onto the mattress beside Beca.

Instinctively, Beca lifts the comforter for Chloe to climb in, and takes note of the way Chloe’s gaze drops toward Beca’s naked body, too. Dark brows raise, amusement evident on Beca’s lips. “I don’t know, are you?”

Chloe chuckles quietly, shuffling over to move more closely toward Beca, until she is draping her body over the top of Beca’s. Beca’s arms wrap easily around Chloe’s slender frame, and then she is looking up at her through sickeningly dreamy, love-filled eyes.

“You’re not still worrying, right?” Chloe questions in a soft voice, gaze drinking in Beca’s expression. Chloe is studying her, evidently trying to read her mind, so Beca gently shakes her head to reassure her.

“No,” she promises, bringing one hand from around Chloe’s back to tuck a stray chunk of red hair behind Chloe’s ear. In response, Chloe’s face tilts slightly into Beca’s touch. Beca’s voice softens some as she continues. “You know I meant that before, right? That I don’t regret this.”

Chloe responds with a short nod of her head, face turning to push a small peck to the inside of Beca’s wrist, where she is still brushing the same chunk of hair behind Chloe’s ear again.

“Okay, good. I don’t,” Beca reiterates. As comfortable as she is with Chloe—and she truly is incredibly comfortable with her, more so than with anybody else—Beca does struggle to voice her feelings from time to time. She can feel the way her cheeks are heating up, though she manages to hold eye contact with Chloe, the sight of Chloe’s familiar blue eyes so instantly calming to her. “I would never regret anything with you.”

Chloe, normally much more vocal, does not respond verbally. Instead, she allows her gaze to sweep over Beca’s face, a look akin to awe glistening in familiar eyes, before she is leaning forward to push soft lips against Beca’s. “Me either,” Chloe eventually whispers without pulling back.

While they are both tired, it is always easy for them to become entirely wrapped up in one another. So, Beca is in no hurry to part from Chloe. It seems that Chloe isn’t trying to move away, either. Instead, Beca feels the way Chloe’s lips part slightly to deepen their impromptu kiss, with Beca’s easily doing the same in return.

Instinctively, Beca’s legs part gently for Chloe’s body to slot properly in between them, hand dropping until her fingertips are grazing lightly over the smooth skin of Chloe’s back.

“I love you,” Chloe murmurs, lips moving from Beca’s, though she does not lose contact. Instead, Chloe begins to trail soft, open-mouthed kisses across Beca’s jaw, until she is kissing her way delicately down toward her neck.

Beca’s head tilts back automatically, light fingertips traveling further up Chloe’s toned back. “I love you, too,” she mumbles, face tilting downward to watch as Chloe presses a path of wet kisses delicately to each patch of hot skin beneath her lips. The way her tongue flicks out as she kisses across Beca’s collarbone causes Beca’s breath to catch momentarily in her throat, until she is willing Chloe to move lower down.

Soft lips work their way toward her chest, kissing lightly over the hill of her breast, until Chloe is ducking her head to wrap her parted lips around Beca’s already stiffening nipple. In response, Beca’s fingers rise to the back of Chloe’s hair, looping gently through her curls. Her body reacts to the feeling of Chloe’s tongue beginning to slowly circle the hardened bud, with Beca letting out a soft whimper of appreciation in the process.

Although she stops to begin kissing her way back up toward Beca’s mouth, with Beca capturing Chloe’s lips eagerly with her own, Chloe lifts her hips to begin trailing her fingertips, smooth and feather light, down Beca’s already slightly trembling torso.

Chloe has always been a total turn on to Beca, so this time is absolutely no exception. As Chloe’s fingertips graze gently along Beca’s hip, over that one sensitive patch of skin that never fails to make her shiver, she can feel the undeniable spread of heat growing between her legs, even more so than before.

Normally, Chloe likes to tease, to get her really worked up until Beca is begging her to touch her, but not tonight. There is something softer about all of this, something that conveys their feelings so effortlessly. The tip of her finger slips along Beca’s already sensitive clit, the initial contact causing Beca’s hips to rock upward softly into Chloe’s touch, until Chloe is pulling her lips away from Beca’s to instead look down at her face.

“You’re so wet,” Chloe whispers, finger dipping toward Beca’s aching center. Easily, she coats her finger in Beca’s obvious arousal, until she can begin to move it delicately through swollen folds. Chloe always knows where and how to touch her, so Beca’s body reacts accordingly; her head tips back slightly, fingers tightening some in the back of Chloe’s hair, as another soft whimper rises in her throat. It is automatic, the way Beca’s lids flutter shut as Chloe moves her finger at a slightly faster pace, though she hears the way Chloe murmurs quietly, “No, look at me.”

Chloe’s quiet instruction causes Beca’s teeth to sink softly into her bottom lip, eyes opening to stare up into Chloe’s, familiar and mesmerizing. Already, her breathing is quickening slightly, and she can see the way Chloe’s darkened stare is drinking in her expression. “Like that,” Chloe whispers, head nodding gently. Slowly, she begins to lower her hand until her fingertip is pressing at Beca’s dripping center. Chloe’s hooded eyes remain on Beca’s face as she sinks her finger inside of her, a soft moan of approval falling from Beca’s lips in reaction. “Just like that,” Chloe croons softly, tip of her finger curling inside of Beca’s cunt, “Keep looking at me.”

Beca nods her head obediently, whimpering through the feeling building between her legs beneath Chloe’s expert touch. She can feel how easily Chloe’s finger, coated in Beca’s warm arousal, slides out of her center and drags over her swollen clit. A second finger begins to spread her further open, until both tips are running through aching folds. Beca instantly begins to moan aloud, her eyes automatically closing.

“Baby,” Chloe whispers, picking up the pace of her fingers, “Keep looking at me, I want to see you.”

Again, Beca’s eyes flutter open, and she takes in the way Chloe’s teeth are sinking down into her lip, the way her chest has begun to rise and fall a little faster. It is not until Chloe releases a small whimper from the back of her throat that Beca registers the way Chloe’s hips are moving, the back of her hand evidently pressing to her own neglected clit. Chloe is fucking both of them, and there is something so ridiculously hot about that thought that Beca has to lean up to press her lips to Chloe’s, an instant moan falling into her mouth.

“Fuck,” Chloe murmurs into the kiss, hips grinding downward against her own hand. The increased pressure forces her to touch Beca more firmly, and Beca’s fingers instinctively grip onto the back of Chloe’s hair as she moans through the feeling of Chloe bringing her closer and closer to her edge.

Although their lips remain working against one another’s, their kisses become much messier, until Chloe pulls back to the sound of a loud, echoed moan spilling from Beca’s lips.

“Look at me,” Chloe instructs gently through ragged breaths, “While you come for me, look at me.”

Though her eyes do flutter shut a couple times, Beca manages to maintain some form of eye contact with Chloe, until they are both panting through their shared orgasm, bodies weak and trembling against one another’s. Finally, Chloe begins to slow the movement of her fingers, before pulling her hand slowly away.

Beca’s heart is hammering hard inside of her chest, her eyes squeezing shut as she rides out the pleasured waves of her orgasm. Fingers still tightly gripping onto the back of Chloe’s hair, Beca presses her sticky forehead against Chloe’s, whimpering softly through her high.

Naturally, it takes them both a few moments to calm down, their bodies moving softly in sync as their faster breaths begin to even out, until Chloe is tilting her face to reconnect full, parted lips with Beca’s.

Beca lazily returns the kiss, teeth gently pulling Chloe’s bottom lip in between them. She releases it, before pulling back slightly, gaze immediately locking with Chloe’s.

Save for their still somewhat heavier breathing, there is silence around them for a moment, before Chloe mumbles softly, “Not still worrying?”

At that, Beca cannot help the way she grins, her eyes instantly rolling fondly. The grip she has on Chloe’s hair loosens, until she is able to wind her arms around Chloe’s neck, keeping her body pressed tightly against her own. “I told you I wasn’t worrying,” Beca mumbles, lips curved up into an amused smirk.

“I know,” Chloe murmurs, pushing a chaste peck to Beca’s lips, a kiss Beca easily returns. “I was just checking.”


	5. i’m always tired but never of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months ago, when things officially begun to unravel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Gnash's _I Hate U, I Love U_.

#  _Chloe — 6 months ago._

Work is stressful. Work is _always_ stressful, but man, is it rewarding. To get to see firsthand the way the joy of music can uplift a tiny human, the way it can add so incredibly to their development, will never fail to amaze Chloe. Growing up, Chloe watched her father work a job he didn’t necessarily like. It was draining and affected his entire mood, so Chloe has vowed, from as far back as she can remember, that her career will be one she wholeheartedly adores.

And she does, she loves her job. Teaching music is the perfect path for her, it fills her stressful days with sheer happiness. The paycheck, however? That is where the reward seems to end.

Chloe doesn’t really know when it happened, when she became one of those people to lay awake at night worrying about paying bills, or counting pennies by switching one food item for a cheaper brand at the grocery store. She does not come from the most well off family—the Beale’s have never struggled, but they also would never have been classed as _rich_. They always got by, though, and it was perhaps something Chloe had taken for granted until her adult life, until she was actually out on her own.

Beca does not come from a background of wealth either, so both are generally savvy with their finances. Lately, though, with Beca out of regular work and Chloe bringing in the monthly pay of a public school teacher, they are struggling more so than ever. They have always lived paycheck to paycheck, but _life_ is getting more expensive. The money they make, it just isn’t enough.

So, as Chloe returns home after a particularly draining Wednesday at work to find a sickeningly familiar envelope amongst the mail that Beca had evidently brought in earlier sitting mockingly on their kitchen counter, it causes her stomach to drop.

“Bec?” She calls in place of a greeting, lazily dropping her purse onto the counter, and instead picking up the envelope. Chloe doesn’t hear a response, though that is unsurprising. She knows what the letter is before even tearing into it, though sucks in her cheeks at the _PAST-DUE_ notice tormenting her in large letters on the now revealed sheet. Exhaling a sigh through her nose, she makes her way up to their second bedroom—a box room that Beca currently uses to create music in—and pushes open the door. “Beca, I thought we paid this?”

Beca, headphones pulled over her ears and focused eyes glued to her computer screen, does not even look up.

“Beca,” Chloe says a little louder this time, walking into the room.

Perhaps it is the sight of her shadow that eventually catches Beca’s attention, because finally she clicks something on her computer, then tugs the headphones slowly down to hang around her neck. Whirling around in her chair to face Chloe, Beca flashes her a greeting smile. “Hey, you’re home,” she grins, “Good day at work?”

Evidently, she hasn’t noticed the letter in Chloe’s hand, though Chloe holds it up to wave it slightly. “What is this? I thought we paid this.”

Beca’s gaze drops to the letter, before taking it somewhat cautiously into her hands as Chloe offers it out to her. Blue eyes scan over the words, with Chloe’s arms folding tightly across her middle.

“Oh, yeah…” Beca nods slowly, eyes still down on the sheet of paper. “About that…”

Instantly, Chloe’s eyes close. She proceeds to inhale a deep breath in through her nose in an effort to center herself. “Jesus Christ,” she mutters quietly, shoulders sagging on exhale. “Beca, we can’t just not pay bills.”

“I know,” Beca murmurs, dropping the letter down into her lap. She seems to think for a moment, to contemplate the severity, before her head finally tips back and she lets out a long groan. “This is my fault, I knew I should’ve just kept—”

Although Chloe is annoyed, she also doesn’t want Beca to blame herself. They had discussed this before Beca had finally quit working for her older brother. She couldn’t do it anymore, it was driving her toward a breakdown; she needed time to work on her music, to do something she truly loves, so they had agreed to make it work. Their finances are _their_ finances, their consequences are _their_ consequences, so Chloe quickly jumps in through a defeated sigh. “No, Bec, it’s not your fault,” she assures in a soft voice. Finally, Chloe shuffles closer, until she can rest a hand delicately on Beca’s shoulder, fingers curling around it protectively. Beca’s eyes are still closed, though she opens them to glance up at her, and Chloe shoots her a soft smile in return.

“I should’ve just kept working for Charlie,” Beca grumbles, finishing off her prior thought.

Chloe softly shakes her head in response. “You hated working for him.” A brief pause precedes her gently taking the letter from Beca’s grasp, before she perches down onto Beca’s lap. Beca’s head is still tipped back in frustration, though her arms snake automatically around Chloe’s waist, tugging her body closer, and Chloe glances back at her with something of a sympathetic smile. Chloe’s hand rises to delicately brush a chunk of dark hair behind Beca’s ear. “I stand by you quitting being the right move. You should love what you do, and I know you’re working hard,” she pauses briefly to glance toward the computer screen, where Chloe can see that Beca is in the middle of working on a new mix, “We just have to try to remember that, for now, we only have the one income. We can’t keep living like we’re still bringing in two.”

“I know,” Beca agrees with a small nod of her head, soft sigh escaping her parted lips. “I know, you’re right.”

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Chloe doesn’t sleep much. In reality, she doesn’t sleep very well at all lately. She spends most of the night tossing and turning, worrying about stupid things a younger Chloe Beale would never have even considered ever being a factor.

Evidently, she does manage to drift off at some point, and when she wakes to the abrupt sound of her alarm, she does so to find that Beca’s side of the bed is empty. The inviting smell of freshly made pancakes that begins to fill her nose is what ultimately leads her downstairs and into the kitchen, where Beca is in the process of plating up a home made stack.

Although Chloe is exhausted, she cannot help the way her lips curl into a small smile as she watches from the doorway, eyes drinking in the sight of her girlfriend. Beca is wearing old pajama shorts and an oversized shirt. Her hair is scraped back into a messy bun on top of her head, eyes void of her signature eyeliner (admittedly a much more subtle addition in more recent years), and Chloe finds that Beca still manages to take her breath away.

“Can’t you at least pretend to let me surprise you?” Beca says with her back toward Chloe, now sprinkling blueberries over the stack of pancakes.

Chloe chuckles softly, shoulder shrugging lazily. “I am surprised.”

“No,” Beca shakes her head, picking up the plate. She grabs a bottle of syrup, then makes her way toward Chloe. “I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed.”

“I guess you were a couple minutes late,” Chloe smirks playfully, easily accepting the plate. “But I am still very appreciative regardless.”

“Mm, I’ll get it right next time,” Beca shrugs a shoulder, stretching upward to push a chaste kiss to Chloe’s lips. Chloe returns it easily, taking the syrup from Beca’s other hand. “You know, that would’ve been $8.99 at IHOP.”

While an amused smirk tugs at the corner of Chloe’s mouth, her brow raises semi-judgmentally. “The fact that you just automatically know the exact price proves that we eat out way too much.”

Beca’s nose wrinkles in response, small frown twisting onto her face. “True. Well, you don’t have to pay for these ones.” A devilish smile creeps across her lips. “Not with money, anyway.”

An auburn brow raises again, Chloe’s amused smile widening some, before Beca side-steps around her, quickly grabbing a blueberry from Chloe’s plate. “I expect payment tonight,” she calls over her shoulder, and Chloe cannot help but chuckle softly as she hears Beca humming breezily to herself.

It is easy to forget about their problems sometimes, it really is.

Unfortunately, Chloe’s brief morning high falls somewhere around lunchtime, when she finds that she can barely keep her eyes open. It is important for her to maintain an air of enthusiasm at work, though, so Chloe does her best. Admittedly, she is excited to get back home, where she intends to pass out immediately. She attempts to actively participate in friendly conversation with her colleagues in the teachers lounge, though her tired eyes eventually drop toward her phone screen as a text message notification comes through from Beca.

 **Beca  
** _Guess what_

 **Chloe  
** _You’re making me pancakes for breakfast again tomorrow?_

 **Beca  
** _No_  
 _Well, yes, if you want, but no  
_ _Remember that drawer set Charlie and I made from scratch?  
_ _[picture attached]_

 **Chloe  
** _Yeah…_

 **Beca  
** _Apparently their friends want a replica_  
 _So they’re gonna pay me to make them another_

While Chloe is intrigued by the proposition, she also cannot help but slightly quirk a brow in questioning.

 **Chloe  
** _What happened to not working for your brother anymore?_

 **Beca  
** _I’m not. This is just gonna be my thing  
_ _Side project to make a little extra money, you know?_

For some reason, some reason that she cannot quite figure out, but that nags at her regardless, Chloe cannot help but feel somewhat skeptical. She chews down lightly onto her lower lip in thought, before tapping out a response.

 **Chloe  
** _Are they buying the materials?_

 **Beca  
** _No, I’ll buy them, but then they’ll cover the cost when they pay me_  
 _I’m gonna make money on it, Chlo. Don’t worry_

Although Chloe cannot help the slight frown that wrinkles across her face, something her colleague points out but that Chloe simply shrugs off, she decides not to rain on Beca’s parade. Beca is just trying to help, trying to contribute in some way. Besides, Beca is smart, she knows what she is doing—begrudgingly, this used to be her job, after all (temporarily, of course)—so Chloe bites back her own reservations.

 **Chloe  
** _That’s awesome then, Bec_  
 _Proud of you 💜_

 **Beca  
** _😘_

* * *

#  _Chloe — 5 months ago._

Although both are in agreement that they need to cut back on their spending, there are certain occasions that cannot be avoided; one of which pops up the following month in the form of Stacie’s birthday dinner. Much like every birthday, Aubrey picks a ridiculously expensive restaurant, way beyond Chloe and Beca’s current price range, but neither has the heart to refuse.

Besides, their friends don’t know how badly they are struggling right now, and it is really not the kind of information they want to divulge.

So, with forced enthusiastic expressions plastered across their made up faces, they walk hand in hand into the restaurant to the beaming grins of Aubrey and Stacie, who are already seated and waiting for their arrival.

“What did we actually get her?” Beca murmurs quietly, leaning in a little closer toward Chloe as they make their way toward the table. Chloe is holding a decently sized gift bag containing Stacie’s birthday presents, the ones Beca had played only a minimal part in picking out.

Chloe shoots her a brief warning glare, before turning her attention to their friends, who both immediately rise as Chloe and Beca reach the table.

“You both look so cute!” Stacie comments excitedly, instantly pulling Beca into a hug as Aubrey wraps her arms around Chloe.

“Thanks,” Chloe grins, shooting a bright smile over Aubrey’s shoulder toward Stacie. “Happy birthday!”

Soon, the four are taking their seats; Aubrey and Chloe side by side, with Beca and Stacie seated across from them. Although Chloe loves date nights with Beca, she admittedly enjoys these double dates, too. It is not like they get many of the former these days, so she makes a promise to herself that she will enjoy this evening. She works hard, she and Beca deserve to have _some_ fun.

“Where’s Bells?” Beca questions conversationally, instinctively picking up a menu.

“With Aubrey’s mom,” Stacie shrugs, fingers wrapping delicately around her wine glass. “My parents always make us pay them to babysit.” Her neatly penciled brow arches as she glances around the table. “Their own grandkid. So weird, right?”

“Yeah,” Beca chuckles somewhat awkwardly, “Why pay someone when her other grandparents are willing to do it for free?”

Chloe shoots a brief questioning glance toward Beca, and she is positive she can read her mind. The thought of Beca offering to babysit Bella for money makes Chloe frown, but Stacie has evidently shot that idea down unintentionally already, anyway.

“Do you want to open your gifts?” Chloe beams in an effort to change the subject. Plus, she is excited for Stacie to receive them, so hands the gift bag across the table to her gleefully.

Stacie’s eyes shine in response as she accepts it, setting it down carefully on the table in front of her. Quickly, she tears through the tape over the top of the bag, reaching in to pull out the first gift.

Chloe watches with wide, excited eyes as Stacie opens the small box to display a white gold necklace with a small diamond charm in the center. Stacie’s brows raise momentarily, lips curving into an appreciative smile as she carefully removes the necklace from the box. “You guys, that’s beautiful,” she awes, turning it around to show it to Aubrey, who admires it happily.

The reason the necklace looks a little on the expensive side is because it was, and Chloe notes the look Beca is shooting her across the table, but Chloe doesn’t make eye contact with her. Stacie is their friend, they are allowed to treat her for her birthday.

“There’s a couple more,” Chloe prompts, motioning toward the bag.

“More?” Stacie questions excitedly, hand dipping into the bag again. Chloe makes a point to actively avoid the glare she can practically feel burning into her from Beca across the table.

By the time Stacie is done emptying out the contents of the bag, she is now the proud owner of a diamond necklace, a bracelet to match, a succulent displayed in a small pot (Beca’s suggestion before Chloe had gone out to actually buy the gifts), an assortment of various candles, and a couple bags of her favorite candy to top everything off.

“I love you both so much, thank you,” Stacie cooes dreamily, sticking out her arms to pull Beca into a tight side hug, one that has Beca gasping in surprise. “You really shouldn’t have.”

Beca, swept up in Stacie’s arms, simply pushes a smile to her lips, gaze shifting across the table toward Chloe as she says through gritted teeth, “Yeah, well. You know us. We like to go overboard.”

Again, Chloe shoots Beca a pointed frown, though wipes it quickly from her face in time for Stacie to straighten up and reach across the table to settle her hand on top of Chloe’s arm. She gives it a light squeeze, flashing Chloe a genuine, appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Chloe responds in a gentle tone. Maybe she _had_ kind of gone overboard with the gifts, but Stacie is one of her best friends. If she and Beca can’t spoil their best friends for limited special occasions, then who can they?

“Okay, we should toast!” Aubrey announces proudly, reaching for her almost empty wine glass.

Stacie does the same, before realizing quickly that hers is entirely empty. Her face twists into a small frown. “We’re out of wine.”

Instinctively, Chloe sits a little straighter in her seat. “Oh, don’t worry, we’ll get this bottle,” she offers cheerfully. An awkward cough sounds from Beca across the table, but Chloe chooses not to look her way. She doesn’t need to, she can still _feel_ her glare burning into her face, anyway.

“Beca, is everything okay?” Aubrey questions, head tilting slightly as she eyes Beca across the table.

“Oh, yeah,” Beca clears her throat somewhat exaggeratedly, tapping gently at her chest, “All good, just a scratch in my throat. Actually,” she pauses, quickly pushing back her chair, “Chlo, can you come help me with something?”

“Sure,” Chloe nods, keeping her tone of voice light, despite her reservations surrounding their upcoming conversation. She pushes out her seat, grabbing her purse, before standing quickly. “You guys order the wine, we’ll be right back.”

Beca has already begun to lead the way toward the bathroom, so Chloe dutifully follows along behind her. Neither speaks until they are inside of the restrooms with the door closed behind them.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Beca asks in a low voice, tone somewhat frustrated. There is a slight frown wrinkling across her pale face as she glances up at Chloe.

“What?” Chloe questions, choosing momentarily to play dumb.

“Do you know how expensive a bottle of wine is in this place?” Beca hisses quietly, volume low. “Aren’t we supposed to be cutting back? We already spent more money than we have on those _gifts_ ,” she emphasizes the plural, “You had to have dropped a couple hundred on that necklace and bracelet alone. Now we’re paying for the wine, too?”

While Chloe understands Beca’s frustration, she cannot help the way her lips purse in response. Her tone is dry as she speaks. “Beca, it’s Stacie’s birthday. She’s our friend.”

“Right,” Beca nods, “She’s our friend, it’s her birthday. None of that changes our situation. We can’t even afford to be here right now, Chloe. It’s like you’re putting on a show for them or something.”

Jaw clenching slightly, Chloe glances over Beca’s shoulder and toward the wall, head shaking gently—kind of because Beca is right; Chloe doesn’t _want_ their friends to know they’re dealing with financial difficulties. If she can throw off any suspicions, she will. “Look,” she finally says following a deep exhale, “I get it. But can we not do this here? We’re not ruining Stacie’s birthday dinner with our drama.”

Beca seems to take a moment to ponder her options, before eventually nodding her head. “Alright, fine,” she grumbles, pointed glare shot up toward Chloe. “But we’re not paying for the wine, Chlo.”

Chloe doesn’t respond—not that Beca gives her the chance to—and both are smart enough to push neutral smiles to their faces as they make their way back toward their table.

“Everything okay?” Stacie questions in concern, brow arching slightly.

“Oh, yeah,” Chloe nods easily, “She wanted me to literally look inside of her throat… This place seems a little fancy for doing that across the table.”

Stacie chuckles at the imagery, but quickly goes back to perusing the menu. There is a comfortable silence among the table as they all scan over their options. Their fresh bottle of wine arrives, with the waiter taking their orders, before disappearing to leave the four of them to their own casual conversation.

“Oh, so how was the movie the other night?” Aubrey questions brightly, picking up her newly-filled glass of wine.

Chloe opens her mouth to respond, though Beca grumbles before she can, “Expensive.”

Chloe’s lips purse tightly. “Yeah, well, going to the movies is expensive.”

“Oh, they totally take you for a ride with the snacks and drinks,” Stacie agrees with a nod of her head.

“Yeah. I mean, I offered to just download it, but Chloe insisted, so,” Beca shrugs, evidently trapped inside of her own bitter bubble now. She mutters quietly, though Chloe hears her, “And apparently we crap money these days.”

“I told you, it’s not the same watching at home!” Chloe retorts a little more loudly than intended. All eyes snap toward her, wide and filled with surprise, and Chloe notes the way Aubrey’s brows knit tightly together.

“Um, is everything okay?” Aubrey asks, voice a little more gentle. Her concern is evident in the way she studies Chloe’s face.

“Fine,” both Chloe and Beca respond in unison.

While Aubrey and Stacie both exchange a confused glance, neither pushes, nor do Chloe or Beca say anything more. Chloe silently prays for Beca to hold her tongue for the rest of their meal; they really don’t need to ruin Stacie’s birthday.

* * *

While both manage to keep their snarky comments to themselves for the rest of the evening, there is still a specific tension looming between them as they walk silently in the front door of their home together. Chloe instinctively locks the door behind them before deciding to say anything.

“Did you really have to do that?” Chloe snaps, leaning down to pull off her heels. Beca is busy shrugging off her coat, and exhales a deep sigh in response, though she doesn’t say anything. “I’m serious, Beca. That wasn’t okay, we can’t do that in front of people.”

“I know,” Beca finally relents. Chloe can see the way her jaw is clenched, she can see the look of defeat drawing itself across Beca’s tired features. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You’ve been on my case about money for weeks now though, Chlo. Now we’re just spending hundreds like it’s nothing?”

Chloe, jaw clenching too, wants to say something about how maybe they picked a bad time for Beca to quit her job, maybe they should’ve thought about it more deeply. In hindsight, they did. Though, Chloe had been encouraging about the decision, and she knows that, ultimately, it is for the best. She knows that Beca wasn’t happy working for Charlie, helping to build freaking furniture of all things, and that she needs to focus on her music if she wants to properly pursue it. So, Chloe chooses not to say anything, and instead just shortly nods her head. “Okay,” she murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

Beca studies her for a moment, with Chloe actively avoiding meeting Beca’s familiar gaze, before eventually nodding her head, too. “Alright.” She hesitates. “So, we’re good, right?”

“Yeah,” Chloe sighs softly in response, bottom lip tugging in between her teeth. “Yeah, we’re good.” She pauses, because she _knows_ that this is not the mature, adult way to work through their problems. Apologizing and moving on as if everything is suddenly all better is really not a solution, but Chloe doesn’t want to fight, and she knows that Beca doesn’t, either. “I’m gonna go to bed, okay? I’m exhausted.”

Evidently, Beca isn’t ready to sleep yet, so Chloe pushes a passing peck to her cheek as she scurries by her, then heads off upstairs alone. She hears the sound of the television starting up in the living room, before closing the bedroom door behind her.

Despite the fact that she really is exhausted, as usual, Chloe finds that she cannot sleep. Her thoughts just won’t turn off, no matter how hard she tries to silence them. Whether minutes or hours pass between Chloe going to bed and Beca eventually joining her, she doesn’t know. She does know she spends the entire time tossing and turning, though. Her tired eyes are still wide open, stare cast up toward the ceiling, as Beca climbs quietly into her side of the bed.

“Can’t sleep?” Beca questions, shuffling her body a little closer. Chloe doesn’t verbally respond, and instead just shakes her head softly against her pillow. She notes Beca’s frown from the corner of her eye. “We have melatonin, you want me to go grab you some?”

“No, it’s fine,” Chloe mumbles, turning onto her side with her back to Beca. “I’m sure I’ll fall asleep soon.”

“Okay,” Beca says, and despite the fact that Chloe can’t see her, she can picture the frown still creasing onto her now makeupless face. She notes the distinct feeling of Beca shuffling closer toward her, until her cold arm is draping across Chloe’s bare middle. Chloe doesn’t shrug her off, though she also doesn’t reach for her hand.

“We really are okay, right?” Beca’s small voice mumbles into the darkness. Chloe registers the feeling of soft lips pressing to her shoulder, and nods her head gently in response.

“We’re fine,” she responds without much emotion, stomach naturally tensing beneath the feeling of Beca’s fingertips brushing smoothly across her skin.

“Alright, good,” Beca murmurs, pushing another soft kiss to Chloe’s shoulder blade.

Whether Beca really cannot read the room—unlikely—or she thinks sex is a fix for their disagreement—more likely—Chloe doesn’t know, but she knows what Beca is doing as she continues to push small kisses to her skin, body lifting until she can begin to pepper kisses toward the side of Chloe’s exposed neck.

“Bec, stop,” Chloe grumbles, finally shrugging her off.

Beca’s body stiffens slightly, and there is something that resembles hurt in her voice as she mumbles a soft, “Alright, sorry.” Chloe knows it is not in response to her denying sex; Beca is hurt because of the way Chloe has shrugged her off.

Chloe can hear Beca shuffling behind her, until she has turned onto her side, too. They are now back to back, and Chloe closes her eyes in an effort to have sleep take over her. She lasts only mere moments, of course, before she is letting out a soft sigh, and slowly turning onto her back. Chloe’s head turns to glance toward Beca, taking in the sight of her silhouette in the darkness. She studies the smooth curves of her toned back, the obvious tension in her stiffened shoulders. It causes her heart to crumble, so through another small sigh, Chloe turns her body to face Beca, shuffling closer until she can wrap her arm around her waist.

Instinctively, Beca shuffles back slightly, body curling into the curve of Chloe’s front. Her hand moves beneath the comforter until her fingers are catching with Chloe’s.

“Goodnight,” Chloe murmurs, fingers squeezing delicately onto Beca’s, “I love you.”

Beca’s voice is soft as she speaks, pad of her thumb trailing lightly along Chloe’s knuckles, “I love you, too.”


	6. and i'm no cry baby, but you make me cry lately

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four months ago. If you’re up to date, you already know what happened then. I profusely apologize in advance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Demi Lovato's _Cry Baby_.
> 
> Smut warning.

#  _Beca — 4 months ago._

It is not often that Beca wakes before Chloe. Even on Saturdays, when Chloe doesn’t have to be up early for work, she tends to rise much earlier than Beca. Then again, she knows Chloe hasn’t been sleeping very well lately, so it isn’t _so_ surprising for Beca to roll over to see the sight of Chloe laid on her back with her eyes still closed, evidently still sleeping peacefully.

Yesterday, much like many days as of late, they had wound up in the middle of a heated argument. They had resolved it before bed—at least halfheartedly, anyway—but things had still felt weird. When Beca sees Chloe like this, though: peaceful, beautiful, all _hers_ , it is easy for her to forget about the bad times. It is so easy for her to forget all of the fights and the problems, all of the negativity, and to just remember how much Chloe means to her. Chloe means the world to Beca, she really does, and there is a lazy smile spreading across Beca’s lips, the thought flickering through her mind, as she watches her sleep.

(There was a point in time where Beca would’ve wondered if that was a creepy thing to do, but whatever.)

Although she wants Chloe to get her rest, Beca can’t help the way she leans forward to push a soft kiss to Chloe’s rosy cheek. She plans to climb out of bed then, to let Chloe sleep, but notes the way she twitches slightly in response, until Chloe is stretching to slide closer toward Beca. Her eyes are still closed, though she is evidently conscious, since she lifts her head to seek out Beca’s lips blindly with her own. Beca cannot help but grin as she pushes a kiss to the corner of Chloe’s mouth.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Beca says softly, apologetic look displayed on her face just in time for Chloe’s lids to flutter open slowly.

“You didn’t,” Chloe assures in a sleepy voice, head shaking gently against her pillow. Her mouth curves into something of a smug smile. “I knew you were watching me.”

Before, in the days of Beca wondering if watching Chloe sleep was creepy, she would’ve been embarrassed by that. Not now, though. Now, she just smirks in response, shuffling forward to press another small kiss to Chloe’s puckered lips. “Yeah, well,” she mumbles, “You don’t fight with me when you’re sleeping.”

At that, Chloe playfully rolls her eyes, quiet chuckle falling from her lips. “Shut up,” she murmurs, arms reaching down to wrap easily around Beca’s middle, “I actually wanted to ask you something.” Beca shifts her body, allowing Chloe to pull her on top of her, until she can press her lips, full and parted this time, against Chloe’s.

“Oh yeah?” Beca mumbles into the kiss, “What’s that?”

Apparently, Chloe has either forgotten or it really just wasn’t that important, because Beca feels the way her body relaxes as she loses herself in their deepening kiss, and it seems that she has no more to say.

Normally, if either is likely to wake the other with morning sex, it is Chloe to Beca. While she will totally protest it, Beca is admittedly.. well, _not_ the top in their relationship. However, as Chloe lifts her head to press her lips more firmly to Beca’s, Beca cannot help the way she just wants to touch Chloe. She wants her lips all over her, so she doesn’t hesitate to pull away from their kiss to begin pushing soft, slow kisses down toward Chloe’s neck.

Chloe seems to have no complaints, and simply tips her head back to accommodate Beca’s lips against her skin. Beca can feel the way Chloe swallows harder, the way her breath catches in her throat in response to the feeling of Beca’s lips lowering down to her chest. Already, Chloe’s nipples stand to attention, though Beca feels the way one stiffens beneath her tongue as she wraps her lips hungrily around the hardened bud. She feels the way Chloe’s body shivers beneath her, the way she arches her back to push herself further into Beca’s mouth. Instinctively, her hand rises to cup at Chloe’s other breast, fingers kneading and the pad of her thumb flickering over the stiff peak of her nipple.

“God, Beca,” Chloe breathes unsteadily, tips of her fingers beginning to graze along the smooth skin of Beca’s back. Chloe’s legs immediately part beneath Beca’s body, until Beca is able to lift her thigh to press between Chloe’s spread legs. Already, she can feel the sensation of Chloe’s warm arousal against her skin, and revels in the way Chloe’s hips grind down desperately in an effort to seek out more friction.

But Beca wants to taste her. She could let Chloe keep going, could let her ride her thigh to orgasm, but Beca has a one-track mind as she begins to lower further down Chloe’s body, releasing her nipple with a wet, delicious sounding pop. As Beca shuffles lower, she brings the comforter with her, until Chloe’s body is entirely exposed, naked and beautiful, on their mattress for Beca’s darkened gaze to completely drink her in.

Tossing the comforter aside, Beca begins to kiss her way softly up the inside of Chloe’s thigh, lips leaving a trail of hot, wet pecks to each patch of skin she touches. Finally, Beca slips a hand beneath Chloe’s trembling thigh, until she can lift it to drape over her shoulder. Chloe’s hips rock forward, with Beca wrapping full lips around her so obviously aching clit.

Chloe reacts with an immediate moan as Beca’s tongue licks a heavy stripe right the way along her clit, hand slipping upward to coast delicately over Chloe’s toned abs. The taste of Chloe beneath her tongue, the mental image of her laid before her, spread wide open and desperate for Beca’s touch, causes Beca to let out a soft moan of her own. The way it vibrates against Chloe’s swollen clit causes Chloe’s hips to rock, and Beca soon feels long fingers winding through the back of her messy morning hair.

The grasp Chloe has on her helps her to begin to guide Beca’s movements—seriously, even when Chloe is on the bottom, she’s still a total top; fortunately, it is something Beca finds incredibly sexy. It causes her to quicken the movement of her pointed tongue, dragging it through desperate, swollen folds. Beca’s free hand, the one not resting against Chloe’s stomach and rubbing delicately against her smooth skin, dips downward until she is able to sink two fingers slowly into Chloe’s dripping cunt.

Immediately, she feels the way Chloe clenches around her, revels in the way her body moves beneath Beca’s touch. The tips of her fingers arch to brush against tightened walls, tongue running along the sensitive flesh of Chloe’s aching clit.

When Chloe comes, Beca’s fingers buried deeply inside of her, Beca doesn’t pull away, at least not right away. Although she slows the movement of her fingers, eventually pulling them from her pulsing center, Beca begins to push kisses right the way down until she can take in the taste of her release on her tongue. It drips so deliciously, Beca cannot help the sound of her own whimper of approval.

Chloe moans through the feeling of Beca cleaning her up, back arching and thighs trembling, until Beca finally begins to kiss her way back up Chloe’s body. It is obvious she is still sensitive by the way she whimpers desperately as Beca kisses over the valley between her breasts, and the way Chloe eagerly seeks out Beca’s lips with her own causes Beca to smirk into the hungry kiss.

The grin showing how smug and entirely pleased with herself she is remains in place on Beca’s lips as she pulls back to glance down at Chloe’s face, taking in the way she glows post-sex.

“I’d roll my eyes, but you deserve to look that way right now,” Chloe rasps softly, fingers releasing their grasp on the back of Beca’s hair.

“Yeah?” Beca murmurs, lips still curved upward in a mixture of both bliss and triumph. She pushes a soft peck to Chloe’s kiss-swollen lips, mumbling against them, “So what’d you wanna ask me before?”

It is kind of a joke, Beca’s way of pointing out how she could so effortlessly cause Chloe to lose her train of thought. Realistically, since it had been so easy to do, she had assumed that it really wasn’t anything important. However, she regrets bringing it up again instantly.

Chloe, still a little breathless, but slowly regaining composure, nods her head. “Right. I was checking the bank account last night, and—”

That is as much as she gets out before Beca completely freezes up. Nothing good ever follows those words, especially as of late. In an admittedly poor effort to change the subject, Beca tilts her face to ghost her lips over Chloe’s again. “Damn, your dirty talk has gotten terrible,” Beca murmurs, tone gentle and teasing.

While Chloe chuckles softly, lips pushing lazily to Beca’s, she soon pulls back to glance up at her face, and Beca cannot help but meet her strong, distracting gaze. “What is that $200 payment?”

Immediately, Beca knows the exact payment she is talking about. For the last few days, Beca has silently prayed that Chloe either won’t see it, or that if she does, she won’t question it.

“Mm, don’t worry about that,” Beca says quickly, attempting to distract Chloe with another soft kiss.

This time, however, Chloe doesn’t fall for it. Instead, she pulls her face back, head sinking into the pillow behind her, and glances up at Beca with a quirked brow. “Seriously, Bec. What is it?”

Beca’s bottom teeth drag in her top lip, and already, she is anticipating the upcoming fight. Chloe can clearly feel the way her body has tensed, because where her fingertips were stroking softly along her back before, they stop now, and Chloe just looks up at her expectantly.

“You know,” Beca shrugs, shuffling back until she can sit herself upright. Awkwardly, she pushes a chunk of hair behind her ear, refusing to meet Chloe’s questioning gaze. “That drawer set I built. I told you they were gonna pay me for it.”

Briefly, Chloe seems to think, to digest the information. It is clear that she is calculating something in her mind. “Wait… $200?” She questions, sitting herself upright now, too.

Beca is sitting between Chloe’s legs, but moves herself away. “Yeah,” she responds as nonchalantly as possible.

“Beca,” Chloe’s voice is a little more stern now, and Beca notes the way her jaw clenches in thought. Beca is so sick of fighting with Chloe, she is so, _so_ sick of it, but she knows it is coming again now. “You paid over $300 for the materials. They were supposed to give you $500.”

“Yeah, well,” Beca shrugs a shoulder lamely, shuffling until she can climb off of the bed. She begins to head for the vanity, grabbing a hair tie, and immediately bunching her long hair up into a bun, just to give herself something to do. “It’s not like I’m working for an actual company anymore, I’m not legit. They were struggling, they asked if I’d accept $200.” She stares at her reflection in the mirror, though she can see Chloe’s glare burning into her from the bed. “I’d already built it, so I just figured, why not?”

“Why not?” Chloe echoes, tone growing angrier. She begins to rise from the bed now, too. “Beca, _we_ are struggling!” Chloe throws up her hands, and Beca realizes this may be the first time she has ever seen Chloe naked and not immediately wanted to climb on top of her. Chloe scrambles through her underwear drawer, grabbing a pair of panties and an old shirt to tug on, but she keeps going as she dresses. “Not only did you let them take total advantage of your generosity here, but you literally _lost_ money. You paid more than a hundred dollars for their materials than they gave you.”

“Okay!” Beca relents, her tone a little angrier than she means it to be. It is just frustrating to her, the way they always come back to this. Yesterday, they had fought for most of the day. This morning, things had seemed good again, but now _of course_ they are back to this, back to fighting. She hurriedly tugs on the shirt Chloe tosses her way, thankful that it is long enough to cover up enough of her—exposed intimate body parts right now just feel weird. “I fucked up, I’m sorry! What did you want me to do? Take it all apart and take everything back to the store?”

Beca can see the anger on Chloe’s face, she can see the way her cheeks are reddening and her jaw is clenching more tightly. “What I want is for you to accept the payment they agreed to, or at the very least to make back what you spent. You spent _our_ money on someone else. You worked for a literal loss!”

“Do you just look for ways to fight with me?” Beca grumbles, balled fists planting firmly on her hips. Chloe stares at her incredulously, before hurrying to their shared closet to grab a pair of jeans. She begins to shrug them on quickly, and Beca’s brows knit together as she watches. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going out,” Chloe states in a dry tone, grabbing the first pair of sneakers she comes to.

“What?” Beca stares, apparently wrongfully confused. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Chloe emphasizes. “Like you said, I’m just looking for ways to fight with you, right? That’s all we do lately, all we do is fight. I’m not doing it anymore,” Chloe shakes her head, stomping by Beca and toward the bedroom door.

Beca watches for a moment, before quickly following along behind her. “What? What do you mean you’re not doing it anymore? Chloe…” She pauses at the top of the stairs, watching as Chloe disappears down them and to the kitchen. She can hear her shuffling around for her car key. “Chloe, come on, we have to talk about this.”

Chloe unlocks the front door, not even bothering with a jacket as she steps out into the cold morning air. “No, we don’t,” she says in a serious tone, slamming the door harshly shut behind her.

Beca’s shoulders slump, eyes on the now closed door. She can hear the sound of Chloe’s car door opening and closing, before the sound of the engine starts up.

Beca really, really wishes she hadn’t said anything.

* * *

Although she really should by now, considering just how often they do it, Beca doesn’t know how to handle fighting with Chloe. It drives her crazy, waiting around for things to smooth over. Beca is really not the most skilled at resolving conflict, it is something she generally shies away from, but that is harder to do when it is literally _her_ conflict. As someone who recoils and needs time to herself, she has learned that it is only fair to give Chloe her space sometimes, too. So, Beca chooses not to try to reach out to her, as much as she would really like to.

Instead, she spends the morning—and the afternoon—first attempting to distract herself with bad television shows, before inexplicably choosing to organize her messy side of the closet, just to give herself something to do. By the time Chloe eventually arrives home, Beca is kneeling in the living room, sorting through a couple bags of old clothes. Whether Chloe sees her or not, she doesn’t acknowledge her, and instead makes her way swiftly up the stairs.

“Come on,” Beca mutters to herself, shoulders slumping, before she finally pushes herself up from her spot on the floor. “Chloe?” She calls, beginning to make her way up the stairs. She can see that the bedroom door is left open, and can hear Chloe rummaging around inside of the room. She doesn’t respond, so Beca stops in the doorway, watching her with knitted brows. “Hey, what are you doing?”

It is pretty obvious what she is doing, of course. Chloe has grabbed a backpack from the bottom of the closet, and proceeds to stuff various items of clothing into it. The sight causes Beca to panic.

“Chlo, stop,” she sighs defeatedly, making her way into the room and toward Chloe. Cautiously, she settles a hand on Chloe’s arm.

“No,” Chloe shakes her head, although she doesn’t shake her off. She does continue to haphazardly pack her bag, though. “Beca, I can’t do this anymore.”

The words cause Beca’s heart to shoot into her throat, color draining from her already pale cheeks. Slowly, her hand recoils. “What?” She questions, voice squeaking slightly in the process. “Wait, are you breaking up with me?”

Chloe lets out a small sigh, before shaking her head. Finally, she straightens up, turning her pointed stare toward Beca. It is clear from the look in her eyes, the way they are still slightly red, that Chloe has been crying. “No, but I’m tired of this. I’m tired of us fighting constantly,” she says, her voice somewhat croaky. “I don’t want this to end, but I’m scared that if we keep going like this, it’s going to.” Chloe swallows thickly, turning back to continue packing her bag. “I think we need some space, Beca.”

All Beca can do is stare. The way her hands have begun to shake becomes obvious in the tremble to her voice as she speaks. “But…” is all she manages to begin with, words seemingly dying on her tongue. “I… I don’t want space.”

Chloe runs her fingers through her hair, inhaling a deep breath through her nose. “And I don’t want us to resent each other, but we’re going to if we keep this up.”

As much as Beca wants to protest, to say that this isn’t going to help anything, she really can’t, because she knows that Chloe is right. She doesn’t want her to be, but she is. Beca cannot remember one day as of late where they haven’t fought about _something_. She doesn’t want space, but maybe Chloe is right, maybe it is the mature thing to do.

“Well,” Beca begins lamely, attempting to bite back the lump rising in her throat. “Where are you going to go?”

“I’m staying with Aubrey and Stacie for a couple days,” Chloe responds flatly, plan evidently already in place.

Beca doesn’t even respond as Chloe walks by her and toward the bathroom. She just stands, staring at Chloe’s backpack, and wonders how they have gotten here. It has been a long time coming really, but that doesn’t make it any better, it doesn’t make the reality sting any less. She is still staring by the time Chloe returns with her toiletries, sliding them into the backpack, before closing the zipper.

Chloe turns toward her, shrugging the shoulder strap into place. “Bec, I love you,” she says in a matter of fact tone. Her expression reflects her voice, and she swallows before she continues. “I do, more than anything. But I can’t keep doing this,” Chloe shakes her head, tongue flickering over her lips. “I’m sorry.”

It takes Beca a moment to respond. She just stares somewhat dumbly as Chloe steps around her and makes her way back out of the room.

“I love you, too,” Beca finally says in a small, timid sounding voice. Whether Chloe actually hears her or not, though, she doesn’t know.

* * *

Giving Chloe her space is hard. It’s really, really fucking hard, and all Beca wants to do the whole time is text or call her, or dramatically show up at Aubrey and Stacie’s house and beg Chloe to come home to her. But she is trying to be respectful, trying to give Chloe the time she needs to cool down.

By Tuesday afternoon, however, when Chloe still hasn’t returned home after the end of her work day, the lack of contact proves to be too much for Beca. She starts out with a text first, just a simple _hi_ , which goes ignored until a little later. Eventually, however, Beca finally receives a response, and despite its simplicity, her heart begins to race.

**Chloe  
** _Hey_  
 _How are you doing?_

**Beca  
** _Not good_  
 _Chlo, I miss you_

**Chloe  
** _I miss you too_

Although it is nice to know they are on the same page, the whole situation really fucking sucks. Feeling like she isn’t even allowed to be around Chloe, around the woman she is so wholeheartedly in love with, is stressful and frustrating. Beca doesn’t mean to lose her cool, but she can’t help it.

**Beca  
** _So why are we doing this?_  
 _Just come home, Chloe_

**Chloe  
** _You know why we’re doing this. We need space_

**Beca  
** _No, you need space. I need you_

**Chloe  
** _Okay, I need space_

**Beca  
** _But you don’t need me?_

**Chloe  
** _That’s not fair_  
 _I didn’t say that_

**Beca  
** _But you’re just okay with this_  
 _I don’t get it_

**Chloe  
** _Do you see why this is necessary now?_

Beca’s brow furrows, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. She doesn’t even register the annoyed look wrinkling across her face at first.

**Beca  
** _What?_

**Chloe  
** _We’re on the verge of fighting again_

Chloe is right. Beca doesn’t want to admit it, she doesn’t want to agree with her, nor to accept that if they keep up this conversation, it is going to bubble over into yet another fight.

Beca doesn’t want to lose Chloe, she so desperately doesn’t want to lose Chloe, but with each passing moment, each second they are apart, she cannot help but feel like she is. She’s losing her, and the thought entirely crushes Beca’s heart.

* * *

In hindsight, showing up at Aubrey and Stacie’s house is really not the smartest of moves, not when Chloe had been talking about still needing her space, but Beca just cannot help herself. It is almost as if she drives over there without actually thinking; it’s just something she _does_.

As she pulls up outside of the house, she sees Aubrey through the kitchen window. Apparently, Aubrey sees her too, because before Beca has managed to even climb from her car, the front door is opening, with Chloe appearing quickly, arms folded, before her. Cautiously, Chloe makes her way toward the car, opening up the passenger door and climbing in. All Beca does is stare, unsure of what to actually say. She really hadn’t thought that far; she just needed to see Chloe.

“Beca, what are you doing?” Chloe asks through a small sigh. Her wide eyes are glistening with a film of clear liquid, her expression one of hurt.

“It’s hard to read your tone over texts,” Beca responds lamely, sucking in her bottom lip between her teeth. She inhales a slow breath, eyes closing momentarily, before focusing on Chloe again. “Chlo, please just come home.” When Chloe doesn’t respond with anything more than a sad stare, Beca begins to panic. A bubble of desperation wells up inside of her, and she searches Chloe’s eyes with unmistakable anguish. “I mean, are we just done? Do you not want me anymore?”

At that, Chloe’s auburn brows tug together, though her sad eyes remain just as wide, just as filled with devastation. “You really think that?” Chloe asks, voice a little higher pitched. “Of course I want you,” she says. In spite of her words, Beca can see the way her gaze is beginning to glisten more obviously with the threat of salty tears, and Beca’s heart drops immediately. Chloe lifts a hand to wipe beneath her eye, just in time to catch a fallen tear. Her voice is small as she continues. “Bec, this isn’t working.”

Instantly, Beca’s wide eyes begin to glaze over. “What?” She asks in a shaky, high-pitched voice. Her head shakes as she watches Chloe wipe away another fallen tear. “No, you said this was just space. We’re just taking a break. We are, right? We’re just taking a break?”

The desperation in her voice is clear, and it is clearly killing Chloe. Chloe’s head shakes slowly, gaze lowering to her lap. Beca can see tears rolling freely down her cheeks now. “Are you happy?” Chloe finally asks, glancing upward to lock teary eyes with Beca’s. Her head shakes slowly, voice choked up and barely audible. “I’m not happy, Beca. And you’re not either.”

“I am happy,” Beca presses quickly. The tears falling down her pale cheeks of course betray her words. “I am, I’m happy with you. We’re going through something right now, but we can work through it.” Desperately, and without thought, she reaches across the center console to slip her fingers through Chloe’s.

While Chloe doesn’t push her away, the way she laces their fingers in response is halfhearted. “Do you remember that first night, in that bar back in college?” Chloe asks, attempting to compose herself a little bit. Her voice is still small and shaky. “Remember how much we laughed? And how easy things were?”

Beca’s face scrunches with her tears, a look of confusion wrinkling across her features. “We were twenty years old, Chloe. Of course things were easier, we were kids.”

Chloe’s head shakes again gently. “When’s the last time we laughed like that together?” She licks over her lips, salty tears probably bitter against her tongue. “When’s the last time you sang?”

“What?”

“You sing in the shower,” Chloe continues in a soft voice. “All the time, you used to sing in the shower. You haven’t in so long.”

“Okay…” Beca nods slowly, panic bubbling within her again. “Okay, so I’ll start singing in the shower again,” she tries in an increasingly desperate tone. Quickly, she releases Chloe’s hand, reaching into the cup holder to retrieve her phone. “I’ll call those people about the drawers right now, I’ll demand the money they owe us and I’ll sing in the shower again. I’ll do anything you want me to do.”

It is clear that her words aren’t having the intended effect, because all Chloe does is stare down into her lap again, obvious tears dripping downward. “Beca, stop,” she whispers, sniffling softly. “This isn’t about that, it isn’t about the money anymore. You were right, you know? About us fighting all the time?” Chloe glances up at her again, eyes glazed over with further tears. “I don’t look for ways to fight with you, but it happens. It happens constantly, it’s all we do. I don’t want to do that with you,” she shakes her head, “I don’t want every word we say to each other to be poisonous, but it is.”

“So what do we do?” Beca pleads, entirely uncaring about the fact that she sounds so desperate and pathetic. She _is_ desperate. She’s desperate not to lose Chloe.

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” Chloe admits hoarsely. Beca has apparently lost the ability to speak, and instead just stares through her thick tears, vision blurred, so Chloe goes on. “I think you should go home. I’ll come by and grab my stuff sometime this week, and I’m gonna stay here with Aubrey and Stacie.”

Beca’s head shakes slowly, realization hitting her, as much as she doesn’t want to believe it. “This can’t just be it, Chloe… You can’t just leave.” Chloe doesn’t respond, so Beca continues in the most pathetic sounding voice she has ever heard come from herself. She doesn’t even recognize it, in fact. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

The question causes Chloe to choke back a sob. Her eyes are filled so heartbreakingly with pain, it only causes Beca’s chest to tighten further, to want so desperately to reach out toward her. “Of course I love you,” Chloe whispers, “But this is not working anymore and you know it’s not.”

It is done without thought, the way Beca stretches forward desperately to cup Chloe’s cheeks between her palms. Chloe’s warm tears run over her fingers, but Beca doesn’t care. Chloe doesn’t try to pull away, so Beca tugs her gently closer, leaning forward, uncalculated, to push her lips, wet with her own tears, against Chloe’s. “Stop saying that,” she mumbles shakily against Chloe’s lips. She notes the way that, in spite of herself, Chloe kisses her back. Using all of the willpower she has, Beca pulls away, but keeps her hands planted firmly on Chloe’s cheeks. She keeps her face close to Chloe’s as she speaks. “We can figure this out, okay? We can. Just… Chloe, please don’t do this.”

Although it is evident that Chloe has made up her mind, Beca still allows herself a second of hope, of Chloe coming to her senses and realizing that this is a mistake, that they’re supposed to be together. They were always supposed to be together. That hope is shattered in no time, of course, as Chloe lifts her hands to settle over the top of Beca’s. Long, familiar fingers curl delicately around Beca’s hands, until she is moving them away from her face.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe whispers through her tears, gently placing Beca’s hands into her lap.

“Chloe…” Beca tries again through a soft, defeated whisper. There is no point, though, because Chloe is wiping beneath her eyes, before reaching for the handle to push open the door. “Don’t.”

In spite of her words, Chloe turns her body to climb from the car, and all Beca can do is watch. All she can do is watch through her own pathetic tears, staring helplessly as Chloe closes the door behind her. She doesn’t even pause to look back at her, doesn’t take a second to think about what she is doing. Instead, she just wraps her arms tightly around herself, before slowly making her way back toward the house.

Beca can see Aubrey’s silhouette through the small slab of window in the door, she can see the way she holds out her arms as she comes properly into view, and Beca watches the way Chloe crashes into her, the way she falls apart completely.

She can’t move, not yet. She will; begrudgingly, she will, because it is obvious there is nothing more she can do, not right now. But she can’t drive yet. Safely, she can’t drive yet. So, instead Beca just sits, staring down at her shaky hands, and trying to wrap her head around the fact that this is actually happening, that she has actually lost the one person she knows she doesn’t even want to do this without.

Beca doesn’t know how long she sits, drowning in her own emotions. She doesn’t even remember driving home, but as she walks into the deafening emptiness of she and Chloe’s home, their two bedroom, one bathroom home that they picked out together, she knows that she has to face her new reality. Somehow, she has to accept that this is it now, that Chloe isn’t hers anymore.

Only, she doesn’t know how to do that. She isn’t sure she ever will.


	7. we’ll make it out, you’ll see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present day. Someone finally goes to check on Beca, and maybe does a little meddling in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from The Cab's _Vegas Skies_.
> 
> This chapter deals with discussion of abortion.

#  _Beca — Present._

Beca has, at least for now, resigned herself to a life of solitude. It is not as if she doesn’t have anybody; her best friend since college, Amy, lives right around the corner, she texts Beca constantly. Her parents, while in separate houses, live only a short drive away. Hell, if she gets desperate, she can even hang out with her older brother. But Beca doesn’t want to see anyone. Other than Chloe, Beca really, really doesn’t want to see anyone.

So, when she hears the sound of loud knocking echoing from the front door, Beca’s heart drops into her stomach. She can venture a guess at who it is, considering the unanswered text message notifications she has from Amy piling up on her phone, but Beca just doesn’t have the energy today. She loves Amy, she does, she just.. doesn’t have the energy.

Though, Beca soon finds herself peeling her body up from the couch and beginning to trudge lazily toward the door regardless, just in time to hear the sound of a familiar voice calling her name. It is not Chloe’s, nor is it Amy’s, though the sound causes Beca’s feet to scurry faster, until she is throwing open the door with wide, desperate eyes.

“Is Chloe okay?” Beca blurts out worriedly, ignoring the sympathetic look Stacie shoots her way.

“What do you think?” Stacie questions through a small sigh. She doesn’t wait for Beca to invite her in, though that is unsurprising; she simply shuffles through the door anyway, until her hands are resting on Beca’s shoulders, with Stacie studying her face. “I’m more concerned with how you’re doing.”

Stacie, like Aubrey, is Chloe’s friend. They are just Beca’s friends by association—or so she tells herself—so for either of them to want to check up on her feels strange, but Beca supposes she won’t push Stacie away. After all, if anyone is going to have any updates on Chloe for her, it is going to be one of the people she is currently living with.

Beca’s head nods slowly, door closing behind Stacie. “I’m fine,” she says, mostly out of habit. There is of course no conviction to her tone, and the way Beca is dressed in old sweatpants and an oversized, stained t-shirt probably dampens her facade.

Stacie’s head tilts slightly, frown twisting onto her face. “You’re not fine, Beca,” Stacie presses, her fingers squeezing delicately, reassuringly, onto Beca’s shoulders where her hands still sit.

Something about the tone to her voice, about the way she so obviously, inexplicably cares, causes a lump to form in Beca’s throat. She swallows it back, of course; honestly, Beca has done nothing but cry recently, it is really not something she wants to do again now.

It seems that Stacie can see her emotions written plainly on her face. Fortunately for Beca, she doesn’t point them out. Then again, they both know she doesn’t have to.

“Look,” Stacie begins in a softer tone of voice, one hand dropping slowly from Beca’s arm. The other holds on gently, almost as if showing Beca she is still there. It is something Beca quietly appreciates. “I don’t know what happened—”

The statement causes Beca’s brow to crease, head tilting slightly. “Wait, you don’t?”

Stacie shakes her head in response. “No. I mean, Chloe said it’s not her place to talk about, it’s not her business. Which, to me is a pretty big hint anyway,” she pauses, gaze trailing down Beca’s torso. Instinctively, Beca sucks in her stomach, before Stacie’s stare rises back up toward her face, and without warning, she prods—albeit not too harshly—at the side of Beca’s boob.

The yelp Beca lets out in response is high-pitched enough to make Stacie jump slightly. Quickly, Beca lifts both hands to cup her chest protectively, and glares up to see the way Stacie’s mouth is twisting into a slight frown all over again.

“Yeah,” Stacie continues, “So does that.” She pauses briefly, studying Beca’s face for a long, quiet moment, before gently shaking her head. Her voice comes out softer as she asks, “Beca, are you pregnant?”

This time, the lump that rises in her throat is more difficult to swallow back. Instantly, the backs of Beca’s eyes begin to sting, and while she doesn’t verbally respond, it is clear Stacie has her answer.

Stacie’s shoulders slump, and Beca waits for her to retreat, to look at her as if she is nothing but dirt on the bottom of her shoe. For some reason, though, she doesn’t. Instead, Stacie tightens her gentle grip on Beca’s arm, using her hold to tug her closer, until she is enveloping her in a warm, protective hug, one in which Beca instantly falls apart.

Beca is accepting her new reality, or at least she is trying to. To hear someone say the words aloud, though, brings on a different level of pain, the kind that has Beca sobbing brokenheartedly into the fabric of Stacie’s shirt. She will be embarrassed about it later, but for now, she can’t even try to stop herself.

“It’s okay,” Stacie soothes in a quiet, gentle voice. Her fingers run delicately through the back of Beca’s long, messy hair, “You’re okay.”

It occurs to Beca that perhaps this is why she has been so insistent on being alone, on pushing everybody away. She doesn’t want to accept the protection she decidedly needs, she doesn’t feel like she deserves it. Her emotions bubble up now, though. They are far beyond her control, and while she won’t voice as such, Beca is grateful for Stacie’s presence.

Stacie doesn’t push, she just allows Beca her moment, allows her to get everything out, before her tears finally begin to slow. Cautiously, Stacie pulls back, but keeps her hands planted securely on Beca’s arms. “Do you want to talk about it?” Concerned eyes search Beca’s face, before Stacie motions toward the living room. She begins to steadily guide Beca, and Beca lets her. “Come on,” Stacie presses gently, “Tell me what happened.”

* * *

#  _Beca — 3 months ago._

Under any normal circumstances, Beca is really not the type of person to sit around in bars alone. Today, however, has just been a particularly bad day.

It has been one month now since Beca showed up at Aubrey and Stacie’s house on that fateful evening, one month since she had to watch helplessly as the love of her life walked away from her so easily—Beca now has herself convinced it was an easy thing for Chloe to do. Despite the seriousness, the sheer terror the whole event had filled her with, Beca had, admittedly, expected it to be temporary. Chloe would see sense eventually, Beca was sure of it.

Only, she should’ve seen it by now… Right?

Each day, Beca’s hope of reconciliation slips further and further from her desperate, slippery grasp. She is not proud of her coping mechanisms, especially because right now, sitting alone in a creepy, unfamiliar bar just happens to be one of them.

To her credit, she didn’t come here alone. Realistically, she didn’t even _want_ to come, but Amy had insisted. A couple hours of drinking and listening to Amy’s wild stories had been a nice distraction in the end. Then, by the time Amy had decided she was ready to leave, it seemed that Beca wasn’t.

She is comfortable occupying her bar stool, sinking back mixed drinks that she really can’t afford. Beca doesn’t rely on alcohol to numb her, not usually. But tonight she does, because tonight it _is_. The mixture of various alcoholic drinks in her system is causing a cathartic, numbing effect, and it is the first time in a long time that Beca has not had to feel.

In rooms filled with people, Beca has a tendency to feel somewhat invisible. She never minds, because she knows that she is very much visible to Chloe, and that is all that matters. It strikes her as odd that, as she notes a figure standing beside her with a leering gaze, it is the second time in her life that her invisibility has been broken by an approaching stranger in a bar.

“Weren’t you with someone before?” A deep, unfamiliar voice asks somewhat conversationally.

Beca could ignore him, she really could. But, she doesn’t. Instead, she slowly turns her face toward him, glancing up to focus her drunken gaze on his knowing expression. He looks pretty drunk too, from what she can tell.

“Waiting for an Uber,” Beca lies easily.

Instantly, she notes the way his face drops, lips twisting into something of a pout. He really is not the worst to look at, she supposes, and his next words, with her almost empty glass in mind, are like music to her ears, “So I can’t buy you a drink?”

Beca has never even contemplated the idea of being one of those people who would sleep with someone for the sake of a drink, but it happens without any prior thought whatsoever. The way they crash into the men’s restroom together is sloppy and without passion, it’s numbing, and that is exactly what Beca wants; she wants to feel _numb_.

She feels it as their lips crash against one another’s without any steady rhythm, the taste of liquor on his tongue so bitter and sickening against her own. She feels numb as they scramble to unfasten the buttons on each other’s jeans, the same way she feels numb as he bends her over the sink and smoothly slides inside of her. He doesn’t fill her the way she and Chloe’s favorite strap does, the grunting sounds he makes don’t cause her thighs to clench the way Chloe’s familiar, high-pitched moaning does. Honestly, Beca just doesn’t feel anything, and God, that is exactly what she wants.

Once he pulls out of her—Beca decidedly does not get off—there is no euphoric high, no desperate need to keep their bodies connected. Instead, they both get to work on lazily pulling their pants back into place, his breathing much more rapid than Beca’s. Just to put on a show, Beca shoots him a smirk through the mirror’s reflection, but when he asks for her number, she tells him no. He doesn’t seem upset by the response—the request is clearly just a formality, anyway.

It is not until Beca arrives home a short while later to the quiet, deafening emptiness of she and Chloe’s house that the realization of what she has done truly hits her. The cathartic numbness has worn off, and Beca’s chest feels tight and heavy as she silently replays the scene in her mind.

Explicitly, she had consented in spite of her level of intoxication, but she hadn’t considered the implications then, they don’t hit her until now. Beca thinks of someone else’s hands on her body, someone’s lips pressing against her lips, and suddenly she aches for the coddling, protective feeling of Chloe’s arms, of Chloe’s hands on her. She aches for the feeling of Chloe’s lips, full and familiar, against her own.

Beca cries herself to sleep that night on Chloe’s side of the bed, small arms wrapped protectively around her middle. She cries through the feeling of utter self-loathing and disgust that crashes over her in harsh, repetitive waves. She cries for that feeling of numbness, the one she’d grasped onto only hours before, but that is now suddenly nowhere to be found.

Beca cries. She just… Cries.

That is all she does lately, in fact.

* * *

#  _Beca — Present._

Talking to Stacie about this, putting everything out there, turns out to be much more helpful than Beca could’ve previously imagined. Stacie doesn’t judge her, she doesn’t look at her with pity nor sympathy. She just listens, she seems to understand, and for that, Beca is grateful.

“So, what are you going to do?” Stacie finally asks, chewing on the inside of her cheek in thought.

“I have an appointment scheduled for Monday,” Beca responds without even thinking about it. “Planned Parenthood.” She knows exactly what she wants to do, there is really no question about it. Even scheduling the appointment had felt like something of a lifted weight, in fact. “I actually have this other number I’m supposed to call forty-eight hours before the appointment. Counselling session or something,” she mumbles, gaze lowering slightly. It is probably telling, the fact that her biggest anxiety surrounds the counselling session.

Stacie nods her head slowly in understanding. “And is that what you want?”

Again, Beca doesn’t even have to think about her response. “Of course it is. I don’t even want to do the counselling phone call, I already know this is what I want. I don’t want a baby.” She shakes her head quickly, voice softening, “Not like this.”

Again, Stacie simply nods her head, and Beca is appreciative that she doesn’t actually have any further input. Beca has never really thought about abortion before, it isn’t something she has ever even _had_ to think about, but she appreciates the way Stacie seems to respect her decision.

“I can’t believe Chloe didn’t tell you,” Beca murmurs into the silence that follows. For some reason, her lips curl upward slightly at the corners. She glances up toward Stacie, taking comfort in the small smile mirrored back to her. “She told me, you know? When it was you.”

At that, Stacie chuckles softly, shoulder shrugging gently. “Yeah, well, that wasn’t a secret. And she isn’t in love with me.”

Instantly, Beca’s face falls. Her teeth begin to chew down distractedly onto the inside of her cheek. “She’s not in love with me either, not anymore,” she mumbles quietly.

“Is that really what you think?” Stacie asks, and Beca notes the way her brows knit together slightly.

All Beca does is shrug a shoulder lamely in response, tongue flicking out to lick over her lips in thought. She chooses not to actually respond, though her next words come out at not much more than a whisper, almost as if she is afraid of the response. “How is she doing?”

“Honestly?” Stacie straightens up slightly, sucking in a breath. “Not good. I know you might think this was easy for her, breaking up with you. But she’s miserable, Beca.”

A part of Beca, a sick part of her perhaps, expects the news to feel good somehow. Naturally, she has herself convinced that this is what Chloe wants, that she doesn’t want her anymore, so it should thrill her to know that that is not necessarily the case. It doesn’t, though. The thought of Chloe, of her being miserable, makes Beca’s heart ache. She swallows thickly. “She is?”

Stacie gently nods her head in response. “Yeah. I mean, she puts on a pretty good show for Bella, and I’m pretty sure she even has Aubrey fooled sometimes. But not me. Honestly, I barely recognize her anymore. She’s not the bubbly, carefree Chloe we all know and love, she’s not herself without you.” Stacie’s words cause Beca to swallow around a new lump in her throat, chest aching further. “And you’re not you without her.”

“No arguments there,” Beca murmurs, glancing down toward her hands where they rest comfortably in her lap.

“You need to talk to her,” Stacie urges. In response, she earns herself an incredulous look from Beca.

“You don’t think I’ve tried? I’ve tried so many times. She doesn’t want to talk to me, she broke up with me,” Beca states somewhat irritably.

“You know what’s probably going through Chloe’s mind right now?” Stacie says, head tilting slightly. She doesn’t give Beca the chance to respond before continuing. “She’s probably picturing that hookup as something you enjoyed, something you did to hurt her.”

Beca’s brows tug more tightly together at that, head shaking quickly again. “I didn’t do it to hurt her! I did it to…” she pauses to lick over her lips, raised volume lowering a little bit—getting angry with Stacie is not going to resolve anything, after all. “I did it so I could stop hurting.”

“I know that,” Stacie says nonchalantly, clearly unfazed by Beca’s outburst. Slowly, she begins to push herself up from her spot on the couch, straightening out her shirt in the process. “You need to tell her that, though.” Beca watches as Stacie holds out her hand, with Beca’s brow raising in questioning.

“Dude, what are you—”

“Come on.”

* * *

#  _Chloe — Present._

Chloe’s life is not the same without Beca. It is not full, it is not one she even recognizes, truth be told. Chloe is not the type of person who _needs_ another person to complete them; she can live without Beca, she really can. But, she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t like her life without Beca. She is trying to learn to accept, however, that this is her reality. Thanks to recent circumstances, this life without Beca is her reality, and Chloe is finding rapidly that she doesn’t know how to do that; she doesn’t know _how_ to accept it.

She really isn’t sure what act of fate it is—is it cruel or perfect?—that has the sound of the opening door cutting into her melancholy thoughts, followed by the grumble of a worried yet entirely familiar voice saying something like, _“This is such a stupid idea.”_

Instantly, Chloe’s heart seems to catapult into her dry throat. Bella, curled up on the carpet and coloring in a picture of a flower, pauses at the sound, her head snapping upward. “Is that Aunt Bec?” her small voice asks curiously.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Chloe admits, attempting not to sound as apprehensive as she feels.

Bella simply shrugs and goes back to coloring her picture, while Chloe rises somewhat cautiously from the couch. She approaches the living room door with the same amount of caution, the one leading into the entrance hallway, to the sound of Aubrey’s low, quiet voice.

“Do we really think this is great timing?” Aubrey asks gently. Chloe can see the way she is studying Beca, but turns her attention toward Stacie.

“They have to talk,” Stacie urges, hands planting on her hips. “This is hard for Beca too, you know?”

Aubrey inhales a small, centering breath. “Yes, I know. But, Beca, I don’t really know if—”

Chloe doesn’t let her finish, not before she is pushing open the door fully and padding slowly out into the hallway, with all eyes turning toward her. “It’s fine,” she mumbles softly, arms wrapping protectively around her middle.

Aubrey’s silent expression asks her if she is sure, and Chloe simply nods her head, offering Aubrey the smallest of smiles. “It’s okay.”

“Okay,” Aubrey agrees, something Chloe knows she does begrudgingly, but she appreciates it all the same. Her shoulders straighten up, the way they always do when Aubrey Posen means business. “Well, Stacie and I will be in the living room with Bella.” Aubrey’s lips purse, before she begins to lead Stacie past Chloe and toward their daughter. Chloe hears a grumbled, _“I thought we agreed not to meddle in this, Stacie?”_ as they disappear through the door.

In spite of herself, Chloe cannot help but chuckle quietly under her breath. She waits until the living room door closes gently, before focusing her sad, wide-eyed gaze on Beca. Instantly, her heart feels like it breaks in two.

“I’m sorry,” Beca says in a soft voice, familiar blue eyes glancing down toward her feet. “I didn’t want to come.”

“You didn’t?” Chloe’s head tilts slightly.

“No,” Beca shakes her head, “No, I did. But I don’t know what’s going on with us right now, Chlo. I don’t want to overcrowd you. I just…” There is a certain sense of pleading to her tone, defeat behind the way her shoulders slump. “I don’t know what to do.”

Honestly, neither does Chloe. She does know, however, that now Beca is here, now that she is standing in front of her, the last thing she wants is for her to leave. In spite of herself, in spite of everything, the last thing Chloe wants is for Beca to leave.

“Come on,” Chloe finally instructs gently, turning on her heel to head toward the stairs. It is clear that they need to talk, and Chloe doesn’t want to do that in the hallway—especially not with Stacie’s ear likely pressed up against the nearby door.

They walk in silence up to the guest bedroom—Chloe’s bedroom, for all intents and purposes—and Chloe motions Beca in first, before following and quietly closing the door behind her.

Beca looks terrified. She looks just as terrified as she had the last time Chloe had seen her, when they had been standing outside of their house and Beca had looked at her so helplessly, before Chloe had retreated, admittedly selfishly, to her car. She had left Beca alone with her own devastation, her own fear, and it is an image Chloe hasn’t been able to rid her mind of this whole time.

Chloe doesn’t really know what to say, and she is positive that Beca doesn’t either. She doesn’t expect Beca to make the first move, to reach out and gently graze her fingers against Chloe’s, but Beca surprises her. If either of them is considered the handsy one in their relationship, decidedly it is Chloe. While a small gesture, it is a bold one to make, and when Chloe doesn’t retreat, she feels the way Beca slots her fingers gently between the gaps in hers.

Again, Chloe doesn’t retreat. She allows Beca to tighten the hold she has on her slightly, and to cautiously lead her toward the bed, until they are both perching down on the edge of the mattress. Beca’s wide, scared eyes meet with Chloe’s. Beca loosens her grip, as if to let go, but without thought, Chloe tightens hers. She feels like she can literally _see_ the tension leaving Beca’s shoulders.

“Chloe, I’m so sorry,” Beca finally whispers. Now that she has spoken, it is like she has broken a seal, and suddenly her words bubble out quickly, almost as if she has no control over them anymore. “I know that our relationship isn’t perfect… God, I know we have _so_ much to work on. But I made it a million times worse, and I’m just so fucking sorry, Chlo.” Her head shakes gently. “You know that it didn’t mean anything, right? I know that that doesn’t make it better, but you have to know that it didn’t mean anything.”

Deep down, Chloe knows that already. It is something she has tried actively not to think about, Beca with somebody else, but she _knows_ it didn’t mean anything. In spite of everything, she knows how Beca feels about her, she knows this wasn’t a case of Beca wanting anybody or anything else. For a moment, though, curiosity does seem to get the better of her, and Chloe asks in a small voice, “Who was it?”

The question seems to wind Beca temporarily, almost like Chloe has punched her square in the chest. It is obviously not something she wants to talk about, and truthfully, Chloe really cannot blame her. “Does it matter?” Beca asks in a shaky tone.

“No,” Chloe decides with a small shake of her head. Her wide gaze falls to their joined hands, and Chloe notes the way she has begun to run the pad of her thumb across Beca’s knuckles without prior realization. She lifts her gaze toward Beca’s face, her expression breaking her heart all over again. “You know that this isn’t what this is about, right?”

Beca swallows, a look of slight confusion twisting onto her pale face. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t care that you slept with someone,” Chloe says, though she pauses at that. “Well, no, I do. I’m doing everything I can not to think about it. But this isn’t about that, Beca.” Instinctively, her gaze falls toward Beca’s stomach, but Chloe doesn’t look for a bump. She doesn’t want to see one. “There’s a baby in all of this now. Your baby with someone else, someone that isn’t me.” Chloe feels the way her voice trembles, she can hear how choked up she sounds, but she has never been one to care to hold back her emotions. She can see that Beca is doing all she can to hold back hers, though.

Cautiously, Beca shuffles a little closer, soft grip on Chloe’s hand tightening gently. “There’s no baby,” she says, “I mean, after Monday, there’s no baby. I’m not keeping it, Chloe. I don’t want to. I wouldn’t ever want to do this without you.”

Chloe blinks, harsh lump rising in the back of her throat. “But if I said we’ll do it together, we’ll raise it together, would you still not want to do it?”

The question seems to catch Beca off guard. “I…” she shakes her head softly, “No, I wouldn’t. I don’t want a baby. I mean, someday sure, but not right now. Right now I want to focus on us, I want to make sure we’re okay. Do you think we could even afford a kid right now?”

“No,” Chloe responds easily, head shaking gently now, too. Her voice is soft and genuine as she continues. “I just don’t want you to make any decisions about this, about your body, based on me.”

“I’m not,” Beca presses quickly, and Chloe can sense her genuine tone so easily. “I mean, right now, a baby would not be a good thing for us, but this isn’t just about that. I really do not want it.”

Chloe doesn’t respond, she just stares, digesting everything Beca is saying. She doesn’t mean to display any kind of specific expression, but she can see the way Beca is studying her face, trying to read her thoughts.

“Why do you look like that right now?” Beca asks quietly, cautiously. The gentle volume of her voice makes Beca look smaller somehow, smaller than Chloe has ever seen her before. “Do you… Not want me to get rid of it? What do you want me to do?”

Quickly, Chloe shakes her head. “No. No, it’s not that. I would never tell you what to do with your body, Beca.” Her tongue flickers out to lick over her dry lips, and Chloe wills her eyes to quit stinging. They don’t, though. There are tears welling up in them, all too familiar to her lately, and while she attempts to blink them away, it really is no use. She whispers then, knowing that talking any louder will cause her voice to crack, “I just wish this hadn’t happened, that’s all.”

Whether it is her tears, this specific conversation, or—something Chloe doesn’t even want to think about—Beca’s changing hormones, she doesn’t know, but salty tears spring to Beca’s eyes quickly. It is clear she is trying to hold them back, but the way her face crinkles betrays her. Beca’s bottom lip quivers, and before she has even managed to finish whispering the words, _“I’m sorry,”_ Chloe has instinctively tugged her closer. Long arms envelope Beca’s small frame, and Chloe holds onto her in a way she has wanted to hold her for so long now.

Beca sobs harder and Chloe holds her more tightly, chin resting delicately on Beca’s shaking shoulder. Tears roll freely down Chloe’s cheeks, but right now, she is not her own concern. Beca, hands balled into fists that grab onto the front of Chloe’s shirt, is all Chloe can think about.

Beca is all Chloe can think about as she desperately repeats how sorry she is, and as Chloe tries to soothe her with a gentle, “Shh.” Beca clings, and so does Chloe, until their bodies have twisted to lie comfortably on the single bed, Beca’s face hidden in Chloe’s shirt and Chloe’s protective arms wrapped like armor around her. “Shh,” Chloe breathes again softly, her lips, wet with her own tears, pushing a gentle peck into the top of Beca’s hair.

This is not the way to deal with this, Chloe knows it’s not. Like Beca had said, they have so much to work on, their relationship really is far from perfect. But none of that seems to matter as Chloe holds onto Beca protectively, as Beca curls into her body and Chloe wishes so hard that she could somehow take every ounce of negativity away from her.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Chloe repeats, fingers brushing comfortingly through the back of Beca’s hair, “We’ll figure it out.” Her words are whispered, eyes squeezed tightly shut, “I promise, we’ll figure it out.”


	8. if you ever think you're falling, you know i'll catch you too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Beca’s break down while visiting Chloe. They need to talk, and some decisions become solidified for Beca.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Jess Glynne's _All I Am_.
> 
> This chapter deals with discussion of abortion and depictions of anxiety/mental health.

#  _Beca — Present._

Beca has not been sleeping well as of late. In fact, she doesn’t even remember the last time she got a decent night’s sleep. Honestly, Beca has never needed anybody—she has never even _wanted_ to need anybody. Ever since childhood, Beca has been fiercely independent. She doesn’t know when it became a necessity to have Chloe beside her for her to actually sleep, but as she wakes briefly to a darkened room and a distinctly black night sky, she realizes she has somehow fallen asleep without problems.

Almost as if checking that she had not somehow dreamed the evening before, she glances quickly up to be met by the sight of Chloe, arms still wrapped securely around her. Her eyes are closed, mouth hanging open the slightest bit. It is a familiar sight, though nothing could be more familiar, more comforting to Beca than the way Chloe’s chest moves steadily with her peaceful, rhythmic breathing. Carefully, Beca tucks her body as tightly into Chloe’s as she can, before her lids are fluttering shut and she is inhaling the sweet smell of Chloe’s perfume. Quickly, she drifts off into a peaceful, restful sleep once again.

The next time Beca wakes, it is light outside. She doesn’t know what time she fell asleep, but as far as she can remember, it had been pretty early. Pathetically, she had cried in Chloe’s arms until she had eventually drifted off to sleep, and it seems that that is the position in which they had stayed the whole night. Regardless, she is not ready to wake yet; she only does thanks to the unexpected sound of Chloe’s alarm, rousing them both obnoxiously.

Beca rolls onto her front, face burrowing into the pillow beneath her head, while Chloe pushes herself upward to silence her phone. “Is it a weekday?” Beca questions dumbly, having evidently lost track of her days—without a job, or Chloe around to disappear each weekday to her job, Beca really has had no reason to keep up.

Chloe chuckles softly, though it is cut off by the sound of a long, deep yawn. “It’s Friday,” she responds in a groggy, sleep-laced voice.

“Oh, right,” Beca nods lamely, rolling steadily onto her back. She doesn’t know how things are supposed to go now, doesn’t know if she and Chloe are supposed to somehow just spring back to normal. It is unlikely, she supposes, so the way Chloe climbs out of bed without a morning kiss doesn’t surprise her. It does make her heart drop slightly, but Beca chooses not to say so.

Then again, Beca is happy for the previous night, to have had the opportunity to fall asleep nuzzled into Chloe’s protective embrace, so she will take what she can get—for now anyway, she will take what she can get.

With the single bed to herself now that Chloe has disappeared from the room, Beca proceeds to stretch out her body, stiff limbs cracking in such a satisfying way. The way her body twists, however, causes a sharp pain to shoot throughout her stomach, the way her entire midsection cramps up making her feel physically sick.

“Fuck,” Beca mutters quietly, hands instinctively grasping at her lower stomach. She hates the way she can feel the small swell beneath her fingers. Fortunately, the pain passes quickly, though she can feel the way her body has heated up, the way her face has contorted slightly. It is evidently something Chloe notices as she walks back into the room.

“Bec?” Chloe questions, pausing to study her twisted expression. Her brows tug together in thought, and it is clear she is concerned. “Are you okay?”

Quickly, Beca nods her head. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just cramp,” she mumbles, making a point not to reach down to rub at her stomach, as much as she really wants to. The sooner this is over with, the sooner there is no baby inside of her, the sooner Beca can stop worrying about the moves she makes around Chloe. She just wants this to be done, for everything to go back to normal. She wants _them_ to go back to normal.

Chloe’s lips purse as she continues to eye her briefly, before she finally nods her head. “Alright.” She proceeds toward the small closet, beginning to rummage around for her outfit for the day. “Did you drive your car over here?” She questions from inside.

“No,” Beca shakes her head in response, pushing herself upright in the bed. “Stacie brought me.”

“Okay,” Chloe nods, appearing from the closet with a blue dress hung casually over her arm. It is one Beca recognizes as something that looks amazing on Chloe—then again, _everything_ looks amazing on Chloe—and that distinctly makes the crystal blue color of her bright eyes pop. “I’ll give you a ride on my way to work.”

“Are you sure?” Beca asks, though she is unsure why. Honestly, any extra time she can get with Chloe, even if it is just a brief car ride, is something she will take. Still, she is not trying to overstep. “I can always get a cab.”

“No, it’s fine,” Chloe shrugs off the suggestion easily, laying down her dress across the surface of the vanity, before crossing her arms in front of her to peel off her shirt. Her back is toward Beca, but Beca cannot help the way she takes in the sight, studies the familiar curves of her favorite body. She almost feels like she should look away, like she is intruding somehow, but she can’t. “You know I have to drive by the house to get to work anyway.”

“Okay,” Beca agrees, diverting her gaze quickly before Chloe turns around. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” Chloe nods, disappearing from the room again.

It is still confusing to Beca, their current situation. While Chloe doesn’t exactly seem _cold_ , she also doesn’t seem inherently warm. But Beca supposes it makes sense, and that it might take them a little time to really feel out their present reality.

She tries not to question it, to bite back the desperate need she has to ask Chloe _‘so what happens now?’_ as they sit in Chloe’s car, a silence that is neither comfortable nor uncomfortable surrounding them. She wants to kiss her; before climbing from the car, Beca wants to kiss her, but she refrains, and instead just shoots Chloe an appreciative smile, before closing the passenger door behind her.

Whether Chloe sees her do so or not, Beca watches her leave. Honestly, she can’t help but not.

* * *

It is late morning when Beca’s impatience gets the better of her.

 **Beca  
** _Hey_  
 _What happens now?_

(Honestly, she is surprised she even lasted this long.)

She doesn’t expect a response right away, considering Chloe is working, but that doesn’t stop her from periodically checking her phone until the notification eventually comes through.

 **Chloe  
** _What do you mean?_

Beca chews down nervously onto her bottom lip. In fact, she chews so hard that it actually stings. She doesn’t want to overstep at all, but this has been nagging at her all morning. Beca just wants some reassurance, whether she’ll admit so or not, that things are moving forward—or that they will move forward eventually.

 **Beca  
** _With us_

Admittedly, it makes her nervous, the way the typing bubble continuously pops up signifying Chloe’s response, then just as quickly disappears. She isn’t sure what to expect; a part of her wishes she hadn’t even asked.

 **Chloe  
** _I’ll come over after work, okay? We can talk then_

Although Beca would really like something more immediate, something to calm her nerves, she figures an in-person conversation will probably be better, anyway. It is much easier to read someone’s tone when they are right there with you. Plus, she will take any excuse to actually, physically see Chloe, so Beca shoots her a quick _‘okay’_ back, before deciding to leave things for now.

Besides, she has something else she has to take care of, no matter how much she would prefer to keep putting it off.

While Beca is an anxious person, she does not consider it a medical thing. She has never been diagnosed with anything official; she just tends to get overwhelmed by daunting tasks. And the idea of a counselling session to prepare her for something as serious as an abortion seems like a justified reason to feel daunted, she thinks.

It is necessary, though. Without it, she is not allowed to go through with the procedure, so begrudgingly—and after a lot of deliberation—Beca makes the phone call. The whole time, her hands are shaking and her stomach is twisting in the most sickening way. She listens to a stranger talk through various alternatives with her, all of which Beca instantly declines, then sits through what seems like an endless list of known side effects and possible complications.

None of it makes her feel any better, and by the time the call is done—realistically, it lasts less than ten minutes, though feels more like hours—she glances downward to see that she has begun to almost protectively cradle her stomach. It is not a motherly instinct, though; Beca is not a mother. She doesn’t want a baby, not yet. In reality, the cramp she had felt earlier has begun to shoot throughout her middle again. It knocks her back to the point where she cannot even attempt to stand, and understandably, it worries her.

Fortunately, just like earlier, it passes eventually, though Beca is left with an irritable, worrisome feeling coursing through her. It is apparently evident to Chloe once she shows up not too much later, too.

Just like last time, Chloe knocks at the door, and a part of Beca wants to ignore it, just to see if Chloe will just go ahead and let herself in. She misses stupid, insignficant things like that, like Chloe treating this house like her house, too. Afraid of her leaving, however, Beca makes her way to the door, pulling it open and offering Chloe the warmest smile she can manage.

Instantly, Chloe looks at her with knitted brows, no smile of her own in sight.

“Uh, Bec, are you okay?” Chloe questions cautiously, taking a small step closer. The way she approaches is almost cautious, too. It makes Beca frown.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Beca nods her head, expression falling. She doesn’t want this, she doesn’t want Chloe looking at her with pity. She wants this to be all about them, for them to talk through their situation, and for them to somehow get back on the right track.

“You don’t look fine,” Chloe presses, instantly lifting a hand to press to Beca’s forehead.

“Dude, stop,” Beca retreats, “I’m fine. It’s just cramp.”

Chloe studies her in a way that Beca cannot really read, before gently closing the door behind her. “Has that been happening all day?”

“No,” Beca responds with a defeated sigh. She really, really doesn’t want _this_ to be the focus. “Just this morning and again now. I’m seriously fine, Chloe.” Beca doesn’t mean to sound so irritable, and makes a mental note to chill. The last thing she wants is to push Chloe away, after all.

“Alright,” Chloe nods slowly, questioning gaze lingering on Beca’s face in a way that shows she is still trying to properly study her, before she finally tears it away.

In keeping with the fact that she doesn’t know the exact page they are on here, Beca doesn’t really know how to treat Chloe right now. She doesn’t know if she should offer her a drink as if she is a guest, or just allow her to treat the place like her own. Beca wants her to do the latter, so she chooses to stay quiet, and instead waits for Chloe to lead them through to the kitchen.

Admittedly, it makes her happy to see the way Chloe immediately heads for the fridge.

“So, uh…” Beca starts somewhat awkwardly, rocking gently on her heels. She remains standing in the doorway, watching as Chloe grabs herself a bottle of water. “How was your day?”

Chloe responds with a soft chuckle, shoulder shrugging lightly. “It was fine. How was yours?”

“Fine,” Beca nods, trying her hardest to ignore how weird this is. It shouldn’t be weird, it has _never_ been weird with Chloe. Right from that first night, back in that creepy dive bar, everything has always just been so easy between them. Beca wants it to be that way now.

Almost as if reading her mind, Chloe straightens up, soft sigh falling from her lips as she leans back against the counter and begins to uncap her water bottle. “Bec, I wish I had an answer for you,” she says in something of an apologetic tone. Evidently, she is backtracking to their earlier text messages, so Beca just watches her with wide eyes, allowing her to go on. “This is a weird situation, and I want us to work through it, I do. It’s just…” Chloe pauses at that, lips twisting in thought. “I don’t know how to just spring back from this, I don’t know if that’s even possible. It’s like I said last night, I just wish this hadn’t happened.” Her gaze lowers briefly toward Beca’s stomach, and Beca instinctively sucks in a breath. “I wish it wasn’t happening.”

Beca lets out a small sigh now, too. “Of course it’s not possible,” she offers in a quiet tone, pushing herself up from where she has leaned uncomfortably against the doorframe. “People don’t just spring back from things like this. It takes work, but it’s—”

Before she can even finish her thought, there is that sharp pain again. It shoots through her lower chest this time, and Beca cannot help the way she gasps through it. Her hands rise to cup between her chest and her stomach, and Beca suddenly feels incredibly nauseous.

Instantly, Chloe steps forward, and Beca notes clear fear in her eyes. “Beca?”

“I’m fine,” Beca lies, her words a little too urgent to be believable.

Fortunately, Chloe can see right through her—not hard to do, at least not for Chloe. “No, Beca, you’re not fine,” she shakes her head, placing a hand protectively against Beca’s shoulder. Beca tries to focus on watching the way Chloe’s curls move, on anything she can use to distract herself, though it proves impossible. “Bec, what’s going on? Are you cramping again?”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Beca says through something of a tremble now. She steps back until she can reach behind herself to grip onto the counter, other hand still clutching at her front. Chloe follows, gentle grasp on her shoulder tightening a little.

“Beca, look at me,” Chloe instructs. Beca doesn’t even realize that her eyes have squeezed shut, though she opens them to do as Chloe says. She can see clear worry filling her favorite blue eyes. Normally, Beca takes so much comfort in them, but the look staring back at her is an uneasy one now. “Can you do something for me?” Chloe continues in a softer voice. Although she doesn’t know what it is, Beca immediately nods her head anyway. Chloe licks over her lips. “Can you check to see if you’re bleeding?”

“What?” Beca questions, voice a little higher pitched. She doesn’t know why she is shaking the way she is. “Do you think this is a—”

“I don’t know,” Chloe admits. In spite of the gentle tone, there is still something of an urgency to her words. “I think we should go to the hospital, okay?”

Beca doesn’t know why she is suddenly panicking the way she is, she doesn’t know why her palms are sweating so badly, nor why she feels like she is struggling to breathe. Above all, she doesn’t know why she is taking it out on Chloe, but her words bubble up beyond her control. They are broken and shaky, and Beca can feel her eyes beginning to mist over uncomfortably. “That’s what you want, right?” She stammers much more venomously than intended, “Like you said, you wish this wasn’t happening. Well, this’ll solve it, right?”

For the briefest of moments, there is a look akin to hurt in Chloe’s eyes, though she blinks it away quickly, and suddenly Beca is her entire focus again. She speaks with a reassuring, gentle tone, hand never moving from her shoulder. Her fingertips begin to brush against her skin soothingly. “Baby, no. No, I don’t want this. Let me take you to the hospital.”

Although Beca is still shaking uncontrollably, although her hands still sweat and her heart races faster than she has ever experienced it before, the aching has subsided. She hasn’t checked for bleeding, but she can’t feel anything that would lead her to think that she is. She doesn’t feel wet or uncomfortable in that way. Finally, she shakes her head, words spoken through faster breaths. “No, I don’t need the hospital. I just… I need to sit down.”

Chloe, of course, still looks entirely concerned, which Beca supposes is understandable. She scans over Beca’s face with worry-filled eyes, but eventually nods her head. “Okay,” she swallows thickly, looping her arm under Beca’s until she can hold onto her properly. Cautiously, she guides her toward the couch, until Beca is sitting, with Chloe standing in front of her.

Beca’s breathing is still shallow, still not _normal_ , though she tries to calm herself now that she is seated, now that she doesn’t have to worry about her legs giving way beneath her. Her elbows shake as they rest on her thighs, and her head falls forward until she can cup her face with her hands. She can’t see Chloe, but she can hear her moving, she can feel the way she is kneeling down in front of her. Beca feels the way soft, familiar hands rest delicately on her knees, with Chloe gently rubbing her legs through her jeans.

Slowly, she begins to calm further, until eventually, her breathing evens out. While her body still shakes, the movements begin to slow some, too.

“Beca?” Chloe finally says, voice still low and gentle.

Beca lowers her hands from her face, eyes now a little less bleary than they had started to become before. She catches Chloe’s gaze, bright and familiar, and this time she allows it to comfort her. She allows the sight of Chloe, so comforting and _normal_ , to pull her back to herself. Her gaze drops to Chloe’s soft smile, the one that looks weak and sympathetic, but it somehow reassures her beyond reason.

“Baby,” Chloe just above whispers, hands running softly along Beca’s thighs. “I think that might’ve been a panic attack.”

“What?” Beca questions, voice still a little shaky. Dark brows tug tightly together. “No, I don’t get panic attacks. I don’t—”

“Anyone can have a panic attack,” Chloe cuts in delicately. “Your body is changing right now, it makes sense. Are you feeling any better? Do you still have that cramp?”

Beca, if she truly thinks about it, has experienced something like this before. The first time was during her teens, when a particularly bad bout of finals anxiety crept uncertainly up on her. The second time was more recent, throughout the last four months when she’d been missing Chloe even more severely one evening. Beca has never put much stock into what it means, never actually thought too deeply into it, but she supposes Chloe might be right. She has heard about this before, about how anxiety can manifest itself in strange ways, so even the cramp makes some semblance of sense now, too. Finally, she shakes her head. “No, I don’t. The cramp, I mean. I don’t have it. I’m feeling a little better.”

Chloe licks over her lips, studying Beca’s face, but eventually nods her head once. “Okay,” she says in a soft tone, hands still rubbing over Beca’s knees. “I still want to be safe here, I still want to make sure you’re not bleeding. Can I check?”

While Beca already knows the answer, while she still doesn’t feel like there is anything untoward going on in that department, she nods her head, and Chloe goes ahead and does it. Just like it’s nothing, like taking care of Beca, making sure Beca is okay, is the most natural, normal thing in the world, Chloe leans upward a little to slide her hand inside of Beca’s pants and underwear. It is definitely not a sexual thing, and both seem to hold their breath as she pulls her hand back out, relaxing only when they see that it is clear.

“Okay,” Chloe nods, “I think you’re okay. I’m gonna go grab you some water, okay?” She squeezes Beca’s knee gently, before pushing herself up from the floor. In passing, she presses a soft peck to Beca’s forehead, and Beca instinctively closes her eyes, losing herself for a moment in the gentle, protective feeling, before Chloe disappears from the room.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, they do not really get the chance to talk about their situation. Beca wants to, but Chloe is acting with caution. Beca can understand it, she can understand why Chloe wants to keep things calm and peaceful, all things considered. Besides, despite the fact that she knows it is not the way for them to move forward, that they _do_ need to discuss everything at some point, she cannot be upset by the fact that Chloe doesn’t leave her side. Beca can’t help the way she revels in the feeling of Chloe being so close to her.

She doesn’t want to admit to needing Chloe the way she does, to admit to needing her to take care of her, but silently, Beca appreciates it. Despite her outward resistance at first—feigned, of course—Beca appreciates the way Chloe insists on helping her up the stairs, and on the way she won’t take no for an answer when it comes to drawing her a bath.

Despite them being broken up officially for four months now, Chloe is still yet to retrieve all of her belongings. She still has various items of clothing lying around the house, so she is able to change into something more comfortable than her work dress as Beca soaks in the tub. She of course shouts through to the bathroom, asking if Beca is okay. Beca responds, but she doesn’t know whether Chloe actually hears her or not.

It does not surprise her when there is a small tap at the bathroom door, before Chloe opens up to peak her head into the room. “All good?” She questions quietly.

The sight of Chloe in an oversized sweatshirt, in a pair of pajama shorts that Beca has seen her in so many times before, is honestly something of a comfort. Her messy hair tied up into a loose bun is just so normal and familiar. It is comforting to see Chloe so relaxed, to see her just being herself in the home they share— _shared_.

Beca cannot help her soft laugh in response. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she promises with a sincere nod of her head. “You can come in.”

Beca is not sick. She is pregnant, she has likely suffered an unnerving panic attack, but she is not sick. It reminds her of old times, though, of when one of them was sick and the other would hover and coddle, when Chloe shuffles over to perch down on the floor beside the tub. Chloe positions herself on her knees, which Beca knows from experience is not comfortable on the hard tiled floor, but Chloe doesn’t complain.

“I’m fine, Chlo,” Beca reiterates in a soft yet reassuring voice.

Chloe’s small smile in response is comforting, the way she nods her head just as sincere as Beca’s. “I know you are.”

Although Beca mirrors her smile momentarily, her expression eventually drops, with Beca’s sad gaze lowering to the water. Something has been nagging at her the whole evening, and she knows that she has to address it. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles softly, gaze moving upward to lock with Chloe’s. “For earlier, I didn’t mean that. I know you don’t want… You know.”

All Chloe does is nod her head again. She doesn’t look mad nor upset. Chloe understands. Beca knows Chloe, she can tell that she truly does understand. It is one of those amazing things about Chloe Beale. “I know you didn’t.” She pauses then, licking over her lips in thought, and Beca can tell she has more to say. Chloe lowers back a little more comfortably. “Can I ask you something, though? About that.”

Beca doesn’t know what exactly to expect, but proceeds to nod her head regardless.

“How did it make you feel? When we thought it might be that. Did it scare you? The thought of losing the baby?”

While Beca’s stomach twists at the question, it is not at the thought of losing it that causes it. It is the guilt she feels in her upcoming response, in the way she gently shakes her head, in the way she sincerely responds, “No.”

If anything, it only speaks volumes about her decision, about how it is the right one. Right now is not the time for a baby. Beca knows it, and she knows Chloe does, too.

“You know that I support you, right?” Chloe reassures, hand moving up to rest on the edge of the tub. Instinctively, Beca lifts her own from beneath the water, fingers grazing against Chloe’s, until their hands are connected so naturally, the way they are always supposed to be. “If.. terminating—”

“Aborting,” Beca corrects. “It’s an abortion, I don’t want to sugarcoat it. I want to make sure that I’m acknowledging what it is.”

“Okay,” Chloe nods, again in obvious understanding. “If an abortion is what you want, then I support you. If you wanted to keep it, I’d support you then, too.”

Beca’s head tilts at that, though if she really thinks about it, she shouldn’t be surprised. “You would?”

“Of course,” Chloe nods. “I mean, it’d be weird, but I’m always going to be here for you, Beca.” Her shoulder shrugs gently, and the soft smile playing on her lips genuinely warms Beca’s heart. “We’re still us, we’re always going to be us.”

“You know I love you for that, right?” Beca says without thought. It registers to her quickly, but she chooses not to take it back. Instead, she just swallows, before continuing. “I mean, I love you for a bunch of things. And I am one hundred percent decided, I’m going through with the abortion. But that… I love you for that.”

Chloe’s half smile is still there, still displayed lazily across her lips. “I love you, too.”

So, maybe their conversation hasn’t happened yet, not the way it should. Beca knows they have plenty to talk about, they have plenty to work on. But as she lays comfortably in the water, Chloe’s hand in her own, and watches that genuine, familiar smile dance across her favorite face, she knows they are on the right track.

If nothing else, they’re on the right track. They have to be. All things considered, all issues pushed aside, Beca has to believe that they have to be.


	9. i knew from the first time, i'd stay for a long time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca gives Chloe her space... Kind of. Apparently, a lot can happen in two weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Lauv's _I Like Me Better_.
> 
> Song used in this chapter is the title song, _Happier_ by Marshmello ft. Bastille.

#  _Chloe — Present._

“I’m going to give you your space.”

It is Tuesday morning, the morning after Beca’s procedure, and Chloe is laid on her side of the bed, gaze cast up toward the ceiling. Beca’s back is to her, her form so familiar and comforting in spite of the fact that she is slightly curled in on herself. Regardless, Chloe turns her face toward her, auburn brows softly tugging together. “What?”

For a brief moment, there is a strange air of silence, before Beca turns slowly onto her back. Chloe knows that she is uncomfortable, and a part of her wants to reach out toward her, to help in some way, but Beca doesn’t want her to treat her like she is wounded, it is something she has told her already, so Chloe refrains.

“We’re playing pretend now, right?” Beca mumbles, sad gaze drifting toward Chloe. When Chloe doesn’t immediately respond, Beca gently shrugs a shoulder. “It’s fine, Chlo.”

At that, Chloe swallows thickly. “It’s not pretend.”

There is a soft, almost apologetic looking smile stretching lazily onto Beca’s lips. In her oversized sweater, arms instinctively wrapped around her middle, she somehow looks even smaller than ever. “Not us, _we’re_ not pretend. But the way we’re acting is, right?”

Chloe doesn’t have a response for that, but only because Beca is right. This past weekend, Chloe has been treading on eggshells around Beca. Seeing the way she’d broken down in the midst of a panic attack, then with yesterday’s impending appointment, Chloe has not wanted to add to Beca’s stress. But none of that changes anything, none of that suddenly fixes all of their problems, so Beca is right, the way they’re acting right now is feigned to an extent, and Chloe cannot disagree with her.

“I just think that we need to build things back up again,” Chloe finally says, her shoulder shrugging in the same small, gentle way as Beca’s. “I meant what I said, we’re still us. We’re always going to be. We just have to work back up to the way things were.”

“I get that,” Beca agrees. “I mean, I don’t like it, but I get it. We have problems, we broke up for a reason. They don’t just go away.”

It is typical really, the fact that Chloe has been wanting to broach this subject all weekend, but that Beca is the one initiating it now. Not that she is complaining, of course—they always find themselves on the same wavelength when it comes down to them eventually, they always have done. Chloe nods in understanding, and Beca continues. “So, you don’t have to stay.”

Chloe’s brow furrows at that. “I haven’t been staying because I _have_ to—”

“No, I know,” Beca interjects, “But you’ve been here because you wanted to take care of me. And I appreciate it, you know I do. But whatever we have to do to make this work, to build us back up again, I’m willing to do it.”

Throughout this entire thing, throughout the downfall of their relationship and then the last four months to have consequently stemmed from it, Chloe realizes that this may be the most mature conversation they have actually had. No yelling, no bitter words, just a mutual, assured understanding. Silently, she has to admit that it gives her hope. She and Beca were college kids when they met, after all. They’ve been through a lot over the last eight years; they have to rebuild what makes them great again.

“I mean, you _can_ stay…” Beca adds quickly, evidently realizing that Chloe still has not responded.

“Are you okay?” Chloe questions, gaze instinctively falling toward Beca’s stomach. She picks it back up again in time to see the way Beca nods her head.

“I’m fine. A little sore, I guess. But I really am fine,” she offers Chloe a small, genuine smile, one that Chloe easily mirrors.

Rather than shuffle closer like she would really like to, Chloe unfolds one arm from around herself, and instead holds out her pinky toward Beca. She cannot help but softly chuckle at the fond eye roll Beca shoots her way in return, before their pinkies are hooking easily together.

“I’ll stay with Aubrey and Stacie while we figure things out,” Chloe says, lowering their hands down onto the mattress between them. Their pinkies remain connected, and Chloe wonders if Beca is taking as much comfort in the small gesture as she is.

“Okay,” Beca agrees. Her voice is soft and genuine, it is something Chloe takes further comfort in. “Just know that I’m waiting for you.” At that, Beca lifts their hands toward her mouth, until she can push a small, reassuring peck to Chloe’s knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

The next few days are weird. There is a satisfied but empty feeling swirling throughout Chloe the entire time. The satisfaction comes from she and Beca finally agreeing to move forward like adults, to acknowledge their issues and trying to work through them. The emptiness, of course, comes from a lack of Beca in her life. At least Beca’s physical presence, anyway.

It is not like they have just cut off contact. In fact, their text message thread is more active than it has been in a while. Their conversations stem from generally just checking in with one another, to lengthy conversations about everything and nothing, to outright flirting. Chloe catches herself openly giggling at her phone a few times.

It is at work the following week that somebody actually points it out to her.

“You actually look like you’ve been sleeping lately,” Rory, one of Chloe’s favorite co-workers—not that she’ll admit to having favorites, but she totally does—points out at what feels like random. Chloe is flicking through a magazine in the teachers lounge, attention on what is apparently going to be this year’s summer ‘must have’, though his voice catches her focus, and she glances up at him with knitted brows. “I mean, you don’t look dead anyway.”

Chloe cannot help but chuckle quietly at that, though her brows are still tugged tightly together. “What does that even mean?”

Chloe is really not the most private of people—that might actually be an understatement, in fact—but where she and Beca are concerned, where their breakup has been concerned, she has kept most of the details to herself. It isn’t anybody else’s business.

Rory perches down on the small couch beside her, fresh mug of coffee in hand, and lamely shrugs a shoulder. “You’ve been somewhere else lately,” he explains with a subtle look of sympathy. “You’re starting to seem like Chloe again.”

The statement, as simple as it is, is something Chloe hadn’t known she’d needed to hear. It fills her with reassurance, wipes away any doubts about her current situation.

Chloe’s phone is resting in her lap, though it begins to vibrate into the short silence to follow Rory’s words. Both pairs of eyes glance down toward it, both registering Beca’s name on the screen. Rory shoots Chloe a knowing look, and evidently takes it as his cue to leave.

There is amusement in Chloe’s voice as she answers the call, magazine now laid down in her lap and phone pressing to her ear. “Hey,” she greets breezily, sinking back more comfortably into the small couch. “What’s up?”

“Mm, nothing much,” Beca responds, likely with a shrug. The sound of her voice, of how light and airy it sounds, is like music to Chloe’s ears. It has been almost two weeks since they have seen each other in person, and despite their constant communication, Chloe has been missing Beca. Chloe always misses Beca when she is not with her, in fact. “What about you?”

“I’m at work,” Chloe says with a light chuckle. “It’s Friday afternoon.”

“Wait, it is?” Beca questions, her tone confused for a moment, before she lets out a small giggle of her own. “I know what day it is, weirdo. I’m actually surprised you picked up,” she says, and Chloe can hear her bustling around wherever she is—probably the kitchen. “But wait…” Beca continues, voice lowering some, “You’re using your phone in school? Man, what a rebel.”

Chloe cannot help her louder laugh in response, nor the way her eyes roll playfully. She can see Rory watching her from across the room, but makes a point to ignore him. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmurs into the phone, tone amused. “Is everything okay? What’d you call for?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” Beca says in the easiest, most natural way. There was a point in time, back when they were dating all of those years ago, where saying things like that would cause Beca’s cheeks to darken at least four shades of red. She’d mumble and sound embarrassed, but not now. It is a nice reminder for Chloe about how far they have come. She notes the way Beca hesitates briefly then, though. “I also wanted to see what you’re doing tonight,” she continues. Chloe can hear Beca’s fingertips drumming almost nervously against the counter.

“Uh, just hanging out, I guess,” Chloe shrugs. She finds that she is biting back a small smile, despite the fact that Beca cannot see her. “Why?”

“Mm,” Beca hums, “Can I see you?”

A part of their process, of trying to figure things out, has meant a little physical distance from one another. Neither have exactly been _happy_ about it, but their communication has already improved immensely, so it has been a positive thing overall. Still, Chloe has missed Beca, and she knows that Beca has missed her, too. So, while she isn’t positive that it is the best idea, she cannot help the way she nods her head. “Yeah, I guess that’d be okay,” she says in a shyer voice than is normal for Chloe Beale.

“Really?” Beca sounds surprised to begin with, and Chloe has to bite back another soft laugh at the way she quickly clears her throat, clearly attempting to compose herself. “I mean, okay. Cool. Um, how does eight sound? I’ll pick you up.”

“You’ll pick me up?” Chloe questions, auburn brows knitting again briefly. “Sounds kind of like a date.”

Beca seems to hesitate again, though only for a second or two, before Chloe can _hear_ her nodding her head—she hears the way Beca’s multiple earrings jangle against the phone. “That’s because it is.”

“Oh,” Chloe’s surprise, she is sure, sounds much more pleasant than Beca’s had. She has to take a second to revel in her own elation. “Well, okay. I guess I’ll see you at eight then.” The way her teeth sink down into her bottom lip makes Chloe feel like a lovesick school girl, but she also is not complaining.

“I guess you will,” Beca responds simply, and Chloe can _hear_ the smile in her voice.

The dreamy smile plastered across Chloe’s face as they end their call is honestly kind of pathetic. But, again, Chloe is not complaining. She is transported back to the beginning, back to a time before she and Beca did nothing but fight and worry about insignificant things that ultimately ended their relationship. She can see the light at the end of the tunnel now, it is solidified for her more clearly.

Chloe has all but forgotten about her magazine, and instead has her gaze glued to her phone, so she sees the incoming text message notifications displayed on her screen from Beca immediately.

**Beca  
** _Don’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you_  
_It’s kind of a huge deal…  
_ _I have a date tonight with THE Chloe Beale!!_

The way Chloe laughs out loud in response causes Rory to jump slightly. All Chloe can do is smile apologetically, before her gaze drifts back down toward her phone.

**Chloe  
** _You are such a dork_

* * *

#  _Beca — Present._

The last four months have been difficult. In fact, if Beca really thinks about it, the last _year_ has been difficult. Quitting her job, worrying about something as insignificantly significant as money, and ultimately watching her relationship fall apart, are all things that have understandably accumulated into the year from hell.

However, nothing has been more difficult for Beca than the last two weeks.

Firstly, there was the abortion. Despite the preparation intended by the counselling phone call beforehand, the whole thing had been much more painful—both emotionally and physically—than Beca had expected. She still does not regret her decision, of course; Beca still knows it was the right move to make. Everything else aside, bringing a kid into the world with no money to raise it would’ve been messed up in itself.

Then there was Chloe… No, then there _is_ Chloe. Chloe, who is without a shadow of a doubt the love of Beca’s life. Beca has never needed anybody, not in the way she needs Chloe. But she had clung so tightly, been so desperate to keep hold of her, for her not to even get the chance to walk out of Beca’s life, that Beca knew she had begun to squeeze _too_ tightly, she had begun to cling _too_ hard.

Beca’s eventual realization, her final push, came to her in a _song_ of all things. Not too surprising, considering Beca has always been much better at expressing herself through music than through actual words. Normally, she is more about the music than the lyrics, but the song she heard, the one to have given her that final push, fit she and Chloe’s situation so perfectly, so heartbreakingly, that Beca couldn’t help but listen to it—really listen to it.

_Then only for a minute  
I want to change my mind  
Cause this just don’t feel right to me  
I want to raise your spirits  
I want to see you smile but  
Know that means I’ll have to leave_

_Lately, I’ve been, I’ve been thinking_  
_I want you to be happier  
_ _I want you to be happier_

It felt kind of pathetic to her, allowing a song to grasp her emotions the way this one had, but she couldn’t ignore it. Besides, like Chloe had said, when was the last time they had laughed together? Beca had tried to remember, she really had, but the sad fact is that she couldn’t. She could not remember hearing Chloe laugh— _really_ laugh—in the longest time, and that’s just… That’s not Chloe Beale. Chloe Beale is happy, she’s bubbly, but Beca had watched that part of her fall away, and she’d known that that just was not okay.

It is not as if Beca feels like two weeks of distance is going to immediately fix all of their problems. Those problems are still there, they’ll still require work, but the last two weeks have been a start. And Beca intends to put in the effort, she intends to put in the work to make sure things can reach she and Chloe’s version of perfect again.

Beca plans to start that, at least in person, with tonight’s date.

Her idea is a simple one, but something she hopes will be effective. It currently has her sitting in the backseat of an Uber, leather jacket fastened securely around her petite torso, while she taps nervously against her thigh with her fingertips as she awaits Chloe’s arrival.

Beca’s heart practically stops as she sees the door to Aubrey and Stacie’s house opening, though she cannot help the natural smile that eases its way onto her lips at the sight of Chloe. She can see the somewhat quizzical expression on Chloe’s face as she approaches the car, and simply grins to herself in response.

A part of her wonders if she should climb out and hold the door open for Chloe, but the thought enters her mind just a little too late, and Chloe is soon pulling open the door and sliding into the backseat beside her. The familiar smell of her perfume fills Beca’s nose, and she cannot help the way it comforts her so intensely.

“Uh, hey,” Chloe chuckles softly, clipping her seatbelt into place. “What happened to your car?”

“Nothing,” Beca shrugs, nodding toward the driver through the rearview mirror, though turns her attention easily back to Chloe as they start to move. “You look pretty.”

“Thank you,” Chloe smiles appreciatively. Beca notes the perfect application of Chloe’s lipstick, of the way the color is just so _Chloe_. Chloe, meanwhile, takes a moment to scan what she can see of Beca’s outfit, before her gaze seems to drift naturally toward her face. “You do, too.”

Beca’s appreciative smile in response mirrors Chloe’s. It widens to something more of a grin when Chloe unsurprisingly asks where they are going, though.

“You’ll see,” Beca shrugs gently, leaning back into her seat and making a point to stare out the window, rather than inviting further questions. Her hand rests on the seat beside her, and Beca feels the way Chloe’s fingers slide closer to her own, before they are looping through the gaps in Beca’s. Instantly, Beca holds onto Chloe’s hand, and suddenly she feels like she is twenty years old again, like she is back in that stupid dive bar.

The one they pull up outside of in only a short amount of time.

The sound of Chloe’s breezy laugh causes Beca to glance toward her, it pulls her from her thoughts that this is perhaps a stupid idea, and Beca knows the look on her own face is a nervous one. Chloe’s eyes roll in the fondest way, and Beca notes the way her cheek heats up beneath the soft peck Chloe leans over to push against it. “You’re adorable,” Chloe murmurs, squeezing gently onto Beca’s hand, before letting go to shuffle out of the car.

Instinctively, their hands reconnect as soon as they are side by side again, and Beca’s nose wrinkles as they approach the building. “You know we’re gonna be, like, the oldest people in here, right?” She chuckles bashfully, grabbing the door to motion Chloe in first.

“Believe me, I’m aware,” Chloe agrees, though she does not seem upset in the slightest. The smile on her lips is a natural one, and it doesn’t fall, even when they enter to see that they are, in fact, very much the oldest ones here.

“You’re a good actress, right?” Beca frowns, hand held tightly in Chloe’s as they approach the bar. “I mean, you can pretend to be twenty for the night?”

“Oh, yeah,” Chloe glares playfully, “I can _totally_ still pass for twenty.”

Beca shrugs, eyeing Chloe up and down without an ounce of shame. “You’re the hottest twenty year old I’ve ever seen.”

The fact that this place still exists eight years later is surprising in general. The fact that it is almost as busy as it used to be, still as packed to the brim with college kids, is even more surprising. Beca wonders if there are any other unsuspecting kids in here about to find their happily ever after…

For a second or two, anyway. Quickly, she realizes what a cheesy thought it is and pushes it from her mind.

“Wanna go grab us somewhere to sit?” She suggests, finally letting go of Chloe’s hand.

Apparently, over the last eight years, this place has acquired a couple new bartenders. The one serving Beca is definitely much younger than she is, and she finds herself internally scoffing when he asks to see her ID.

To make this perfect, ideally they would be able to sit in the same booth they’d sat in all of those years ago. Of course, the interior has been shuffled around a little since then, but Chloe is able to find them a booth regardless, and Beca finds herself watching her from across the bar as she waits for their drinks. Chloe has taken off her jacket, and Beca studies the curves of her shoulders, the way her mid-length hair falls in soft, delicate waves. She wears it shorter now than she did when they were twenty. The whole image pulls a lazy smile to Beca’s lips.

Beca remembers them being here before, she remembers how nervous she had felt as she followed Chloe over to her table. She remembers silently begging herself not to do anything awkward, and hoping that Chloe—Megan at that point, actually—and her friends actually _liked_ her. She feels nervous for a whole new reason as she approaches the booth now, though, beer bottles held in each hand.

“For you,” Beca announces, setting one bottle down on the table in front of Chloe. Chloe shoots an appreciative grin her way, before Beca slides into the seat across from her, making herself comfortable.

While a date in a bar—a college kid filled dive bar at that—may seem entirely halfhearted, this bar holds a lot of meaning to them. Beca has put more thought into this whole thing than it being just a date in a bar, and as she begins to unzip her leather jacket, it seems that Chloe realizes that, too.

“Oh, my God…” Chloe grins, cheeks flushing with an obvious tinge of pink as she takes in Beca’s outfit.

It is a simple one really; black jeans, black leather jacket, red shirt. Beca still remembers the night she met Chloe Beale, she still remembers small details. She remembers what she was wearing—she remembers what Chloe was wearing too, but she hadn’t been able to do anything about that tonight—so Beca’s outfit, her all black outfit plus a pop of color from her red shirt, has been planned, too.

“Too much?” Beca grimaces slightly, slipping off her jacket and laying it neatly down across her lap.

“No,” Chloe promises with an incredibly fond giggle, her stare drinking in Beca so easily. “You really are adorable, Beca.”

Beca can feel the way her cheeks have heated up, too. She doesn’t care, though. She just allows a natural smile to ease onto her lips as she relaxes back into her seat, reaching for her beer bottle and immediately taking a small, refreshing sip.

“You know,” Chloe begins, amused smile threatening the corners of her perfectly painted lips. “When I said we had to build things back up, I didn’t mean we literally had to go back to the start.”

At that, Beca’s shoulder shrugs gently. “I know. I mean, we can’t anyway, we’re not twenty anymore,” she shakes her head, surprised at the way her words flow so easily—it is not like she can even blame liquid courage; she has literally had one small sip of beer—but Beca chooses not to hold back. Why should she? Her voice softens some as she continues, but she still doesn’t hold back. “But this is how I met the love of my life. This bar…” She pauses, glancing down toward her outfit briefly, “This outfit—” Of course, Beca’s body has altered in the last eight years; she is not wearing that _exact_ outfit from that first night. Her gaze drifts back up toward Chloe again, to the sight of those familiar, hypnotizing blue eyes that Beca knows so well. “And this is where we’re going to start over.”

Chloe hangs on easily to Beca’s every word, the look of utter appreciation and adoration in her eyes so warm, so comforting.

Beca swallows, maintaining eye contact with Chloe. “We’re still those same people, those two clueless idiots that met right here in this bar.” Chloe’s lips curve upward at that, head nodding gently, so Beca continues. “We’re just older now, we have bigger things to worry about than what to wear to the next frat party.” Her eyes roll at that, and Beca takes comfort in Chloe’s quiet giggle. Beca pauses briefly, before continuing in a soft, sincere tone, “But you’re still the love of my life, Chloe Beale.”

Chloe is an emotional person, she wears her heart on her sleeve, so it doesn’t surprise Beca that she feels like she can see her blue eyes misting over just a little bit. Beca isn’t judging, and she doesn’t point it out. She just allows her easy smile to rest in place as Chloe reaches out a hand across the table, with Beca instinctively hooking their fingers, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Because it is; all of this is. Being with Chloe, _loving_ Chloe, it is the most natural thing in the world, and Beca knows without response that Chloe feels the same way, too.

“You’re the love of my life, Beca Mitchell,” Chloe states softly, though her words are so sure and so strong. Beca believes her. Without a shadow of a doubt, Beca believes her.

No, maybe she didn’t _need_ the verbal reciprocation, but God, it feels so good to hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re reading from start to finish and want to include the additional one-shots in order, now is where [I Miss You Too Much To Be Mad Anymore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23897617) would come in.


	10. i won’t let you down, i will not give you up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rather than summarize this chapter, I am instead going to take this space to thank you all so, so much for sticking with me through these last ten chapters. Angst can be super hard to read, but I have received so much positive, incredible feedback on every single chapter, and I really cannot thank you all enough. Everyone who has commented here, messaged me on tumblr, or reached out to me personally, I appreciate every single word. And those who have quietly read along as well, I'm so grateful for you, too!
> 
> I really, really hope you have enjoyed the fic as much as I have enjoyed writing it. And if there are any one-shots you would like to see from this universe, since there are a lot of blank spaces thanks to the time jumps, I would be more than happy to write them up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from George Michael (and of course the Barden Bellas)'s _Freedom! '90_.

#  _Beca — 8 years later._

Beca truly does not remember the last time her hands shook this intensely. She vividly remembers this particular feeling, though. The waiting, the sheer, raw nerves. She remembers staring at her phone (iPhone 7 was it? God, single digit iPhones…), the same way she is right now, her stomach twisting in the most sickening way. Beca can vouch for the fact that time really does move slower when it is being watched, because each second seems to take at least an hour to tick by. Each second, her mouth grows only more uncomfortably dry, her vision blurs just a little further.

The ground is shifting beneath her small frame, where she is practically curled in on herself on the bathroom floor. The cold tiles are ready to open up and suck her in entirely. Beca’s senses are overwhelmed, her focus on everything and nothing all at once. So much so that the bathroom door opening doesn’t even register to her at first. It is not until she hears the sound of Chloe’s voice, light and airy, that her whole body jumps back to reality.

“Bec, didn’t you hear me calling you? Your phone is going crazy.” It takes all of half a second for Chloe’s bright expression to fall to one of genuine concern. Beca glances up toward her to see Chloe’s brows knitting together, to register the way she glances between Beca, the phone held in her shaky hands, and the stick sitting menacingly on the counter.

“It’s not my phone,” Beca responds in a quiet voice. Her gaze has drifted back down toward her screen, where the seconds continue to tick by so painfully slowly. The instructions recommended three minutes, so Beca has set the timer for four, just to be sure.

“Oh…” Chloe nods slowly, gently closing the door behind her. Without thought, she lowers to the floor to sit with her body pressed tightly beside Beca’s. “Maybe one of those guys left their phone behind.”

At this point, it is a wonder Beca even remembers they have company visiting for the week, considering how clouded her mind currently is.

“I thought we were going to do this together,” Chloe says in a soft voice, and Beca notes that she does not sound angry, so that’s at least one positive. Gently, Chloe’s arm snakes behind Beca’s back, until she is able to wrap it around her and tug her body closer toward her own. She turns her face to push a soft peck against Beca’s shoulder. “And I thought we were waiting until Aubrey and Stacie go home?”

“I’m sorry,” Beca mumbles quietly, gaze finally meeting Chloe’s. “I came in here to use the bathroom, and I saw the package of tests, and I just…” She shrugs defeatedly. “I guess I got impatient.”

Chloe simply nods, glancing down toward the phone screen displaying the decreasing timer. There is less than one minute left now, and Beca isn’t sure she has ever felt quite so nauseous.

“Are you doing okay?” Chloe asks delicately. Her fingertips brush soothingly against Beca’s side, through the thin fabric of her shirt.

“Nervous,” Beca murmurs, tilting her head to rest lightly against Chloe.

Chloe lets out a soft, breathy chuckle at that. “You literally performed for a sold-out arena two days ago, I didn’t know you even knew what nerves were anymore.”

It is true that things in Beca’s life have certainly changed over the last few years—she is no longer that timid twenty-something who falls over her feet and desperately wants to share her art with the world, but doesn’t have the balls to do it.

Following arguably the worst four months of her life, Beca had finally sacked up and taken the first steps to actively doing something about pursuing her dream. Aubrey’s idea for Beca to set up a YouTube channel had seemed like a stupid one to Beca at first. How was she to know she was going to wind up the next Justin Bieber, discovered by a big name artist or music producer a matter of months into building her following? Or that she’d have _Aubrey Posen_ , of all people, to thank for it?

Sure, maybe that big name artist to have made the random discovery was DJ Khaled, someone Beca has totally made fun of before for allegedly refusing to go down on his wife, but she could look past that considering the continuous string of doors he has opened for her ever since.

(Besides, Chloe has totally made comments about the oral thing in front of him before, while Beca has tried hard to bite back her amusement. She is sure he gets the message by now.)

It is thanks to him mindlessly scrolling YouTube one fateful evening when he probably had way better things to be doing (like going down on his wife) that Beca is not sitting on that same bathroom floor she was eight years ago. It is thanks to him that Beca and Chloe were able to switch out their modest two bedroom, one bathroom house back in Atlanta for their current four bedroom, five bathroom (five!!) house in Los Angeles, and it is of course thanks to him that Beca Mitchell is now a household name.

A lot really can happen in a relatively short amount of time. Just like how Beca can go from rapidly shaking, to leaning safely, calmly against Chloe, to then violently shaking again only a matter of minutes later, the way she currently does as the sound of her phone timer buzzes loudly between them. Two sets of wide blue eyes shift down toward it, and Beca has to swallow around the large lump forming in her throat.

“You want me to get it?” Chloe offers gently, gaze moving up toward Beca’s pale, terrified face. Beca simply nods, so Chloe takes a second or two to prepare herself, before pushing herself up from her spot on the floor.

Beca can see the way Chloe actively avoids looking at the test stick as she retrieves it, holding it steadily between her finger and thumb as she lowers back down to the floor beside Beca. Her wedding ring glistens beautifully two fingers over. “You know that whatever it is, it’s fine, right?” Chloe assures, shooting a serious look Beca’s way.

“Just turn it over,” Beca instructs, inhaling a deep breath through her nose.

Her heart sinks at the sight of the clear and definite _NO_.

There is a brief silence, likely while both digest the news, before Beca finally whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Chloe questions, gaze turning toward Beca again. She shakes her head gently, free hand moving to rest beneath Beca’s chin. Chloe proceeds to tilt Beca’s face upward, to make her look her in the eye. “Beca, it’s okay. This is going to happen, okay? It is.” Chloe swallows, and Beca can tell that she is disappointed too, but unsurprisingly, she wants to be strong for Beca. Chloe wants Beca to know that this really is not her fault. “This time it just… It wasn’t it. But we’re going to try again. And we’re going to keep trying until that window shows us a big, fat _yes_.”

In spite of the certainty in Chloe’s tone, Beca’s bottom teeth drag in her top lip, and while she nods along slowly, she definitely does not feel as confident as Chloe does.

“What if it’s…” Beca begins in a quiet murmur, head shaking gently. She doesn’t want to keep looking at the test, to seeing that obnoxious _no_ , but she can’t help the way her sad eyes drift down toward it. “I don’t know, what if it’s too late?”

“It’s not too late,” Chloe promises with a gentle shake of her head. Her shoulder-length curls sway rhythmically, and Beca takes an inexplicable level of comfort in the familiarity. She has always taken comfort in Chloe; Beca is sure that she always will. “You’re thirty-six, Bec. People have babies in their forties, their fifties. I saw Mrs. Castro from across the street the other day, and I swear she had a baby bump under her dress.”

Beca frowns at that. “Mrs. Castro is, like, eighty.”

Chloe raises a brow, waving off the thought. “Okay, so maybe it was a big lunch. But the point is, there’s no single age limit to this, it’s not one blanket expiry date. And we did all of those tests, right? I promise you, we’re fine.”

Beca supposes it is difficult to argue with science, but that doesn’t take away her anxiety surrounding the situation. It is not like Beca should really struggle to get pregnant; she literally had one stupid, random hookup in her twenties that’d resulted in a pregnancy. Sometimes, Beca wonders if that is why this isn’t working out for her now, why their last two attempts at this have left them disappointed. Maybe it’s karma, maybe it’s what she deserves.

Of course, she won’t say so to Chloe. The last time this happened, and Beca had put it down to her own bad karma, Chloe had looked so truly devastated by the implication that Beca had vowed to herself she would never be the cause of that expression in Chloe’s sad eyes again. Beca had made a silent promise that she would keep trying until this happened for them, and that is not something she plans to go back on.

Beca vowed, following the worst four months of her life, that she would do everything in her power to make Chloe the happiest person alive, and to give her everything she deserves, the same way Chloe does for Beca.

She will never go back on that promise.

* * *

Amidst all of the changes to have occurred in Beca and Chloe’s lives over the last eight years, one thing has remained the same: Beca’s determination not to cry. She feels stupid for the tears she sheds—however minimal—over the negative test result, but Chloe doesn’t judge her. They pick themselves up eventually from the bathroom floor, disposing of the pregnancy test in the bathroom trash, then make their way downstairs with plenty of time to spare before their guests arrive from their day’s outing.

They are curled up comfortably together on the couch, Chloe watching a movie and Beca leaning against her with her legs outstretched as she works lazily on tweaking a new track on her laptop, by the time the front door flies open.

“Bella, _please_ slow down,” the sound of Aubrey’s exhausted voice floats through from the entrance hallway. It is followed by the fast sound of Bella’s footsteps. She hurries directly by the open living room door and toward the stairs without even bothering to stop and say hello, and Beca shoots an amused glance over her shoulder toward Chloe, before quickly closing the lid of her laptop.

Chloe doesn’t bother to pause her movie—it is one they have watched at least a hundred times before anyway—before shuffling from her comfortable position tucked into the corner of the couch.

“Okay! It’s here!” Bella’s loud voice echoes down from the guest bedroom.

“Told you it would be!” Stacie calls back, natural smile rising to her lips at the sight of Beca and Chloe leaving the living room to greet them. “Man, when I tell you a fourteen year old really is lost without their phone, I’m not kidding.”

“I’m sure it’s only the same as thirty-six year olds,” Chloe teases, elbow nudging gently against Beca’s arm. Beca scoffs, but she doesn’t protest—it’s not her fault she has important phone calls to answer sometimes, right?

“How was the exploration day?” Beca questions breezily, changing the subject. She proceeds to make her way toward the stoller Aubrey still stands behind.

“Oh, you mean the eternity we spent listening to how much we suck for not turning back because Bella forgot her phone?” Stacie responds sarcastically, “Perfect.”

“Stop it,” Aubrey frowns, though it is a lighthearted one. There really is something about the sunshine that just puts everybody in a much better mood, Beca is sure of it. Either that, or Aubrey and Stacie really are enjoying their visit. With a boisterous fourteen year old keeping their hands full, she is sure that even a small vacation, even with Bella in tow, has been much needed.

By now, Beca is crouched down in front of the stroller, carefully unfastening the safety straps, but she glances up toward Aubrey as she speaks. Her voice is much lighter now.

“This one had a great time,” Aubrey grins, hands planting on her hips as she watches Beca lift the sleeping almost-two year old carefully from the stroller. She begins to stir in Beca’s arms, but rests her head against her shoulder, with Beca holding her protectively against her body.

“Oh yeah?” Chloe responds brightly, taking a step closer to run her fingers delicately over Riley’s matted curls. The red color, paired with the way they cascade over her shoulders by now, really do make her look more and more like Chloe’s mini-me every single day. “She wasn’t too much trouble?”

Aubrey shakes her head in response. “She got a little cranky maybe an hour ago, but obviously she was just sleepy.”

“Mm,” Chloe hums, leaning over to push a gentle peck to the top of their daughter’s head. “No idea _who_ she gets that from…” Chloe’s playful glare shoots toward Beca, who returns it easily.

“I mean, I really was hoping you’d get more of mommy’s qualities,” Beca murmurs, gently rocking Riley as she lays asleep against her. The sound of Beca’s voice so close to her ear, however, apparently rouses her. Riley begins to wriggle in her arms, legs stretching briefly, before she lifts her head to stare at Beca’s face. She looks confused for half a second as she adjusts to her surroundings.

“Mama,” Riley eventually squeaks, bright smile stretching across her otherwise tired looking features.

“See?” Aubrey cooes, “We told you you’d see her soon.”

“She literally has not stopped talking about you,” Stacie frowns, finally leaning down to take off her shoes.

“Mama big,” Riley states proudly, as if speaking a very clear, full and coherent sentence. She stretches in Beca’s arms, until her tiny fists are grabbing at Beca’s cheeks.

Beca chuckles softly in response, amused gaze on her daughter. “Oh yeah?”

“Mama big!” Riley repeats, finally letting go of Beca’s face.

“Notice how she never asks for mommy,” Chloe grumbles, though there is a lightness to her tone. The second Riley sees her, she immediately holds out her arms, small body stretching toward Chloe, until Beca easily hands her over.

“Hey, no, she asked for you too,” Stacie points out. “She was more interested in Bella, but then we saw a billboard with Beca’s picture on it, so then everything was ‘mama this’, ‘mama that’.”

“Ohh…” Chloe giggles quietly, accepting Riley’s version of a tight hug—which in actuality consists of her arms practically choking Chloe as they wind around her neck—before leaning down to set her on her feet as she begins to wriggle. “So, mama was on the big billboard, huh?”

“Dep!” Riley states proudly—she hasn’t quite grasped how to say ‘yep’ yet, and a part of Beca hopes she never does, because her not-quite-two year old language is arguably the most adorable thing Beca has ever heard. Riley’s little legs begin to toddle toward the stairs, and despite the safety gate, Chloe follows along behind her.

“What’d you two do all morning?” Aubrey asks conversationally, watching the way Chloe leans down to carefully move Riley’s fingers from their death grip around the bars of the safety gate, before focusing on Beca.

“Oh, um,” Beca shrugs a shoulder in response, unintentionally retreating into herself. “You know…”

Stacie cuts her off with an amused smirk and a raised brow. “Do we even want to know?”

“No,” Beca responds with a somewhat awkward laugh, “Guess not.” She figures she will take that as her out; she would really rather not discuss the negative pregnancy test, not yet.

Chloe, always on the same page, does not correct her.

* * *

Having a fourteen year old in their home serves as something of a conflict for Beca. On one hand, she would be ecstatic for she and Chloe’s daughter to remain a baby forever—a strange thought really, considering Beca has really never much cared for little kids—but on the other, seeing Aubrey and Stacie with Bella fills Beca with excitement for the future. A part of her cannot wait for the teenage temper tantrums, or the way Bella playfully teases her mothers, the same way Beca is sure Riley will someday, too.

Having watched Bella grow up so quickly, Beca is sure Riley will be there in the blink of an eye. After all, she is positive it was only a week ago that she and Chloe were bringing Riley home from the hospital, Chloe waddling in her most comfortable sweatpants with the baby in her arms, while Beca hauled their belongings through the door, eager to introduce Riley to her new home.

But Riley will be two in less than three months time, and Beca really is not sure where that time has even gone.

She thinks about it as she watches Chloe tugging on Riley’s sleepsuit through the high definition picture of the baby monitor, and she isn’t sure whether to smile or roll her eyes at the fact that she feels so sickeningly, overwhelmingly happy with her life, just her and her two girls.

Sometimes, Beca wonders _what if_. What if she hadn’t gone to Planned Parenthood eight years ago… What would her baby be like? What would they be like now, at eight years old? Admittedly, those thoughts bring a wave of emptiness washing throughout her, and sometimes Beca wonders if she does regret her decision or not.

But then she sees Riley. Riley, with the most wonderful life Beca and Chloe can possibly provide for her. She sees Riley’s smile, hears the happiest giggle come from her perfect, pouted lips. Beca sees everything Riley has, everything she and Chloe can give her: a large house with space to run and grow, more toys and clothes than any kid really needs, but most importantly, Riley has two stable, happy mothers who wanted her so desperately. Beca sees the position she and Chloe are in now, the position they could’ve only dreamed of eight years ago, and Beca is reminded of why she made the decision that she did, she is reminded of why it was the right one.

Eight years ago, she and Chloe were in no position to bring a child into the world, into their unstable, frankly struggling lifestyle. She thinks about how hard things would’ve been, how miserable the environment would’ve been for all three of them, and Beca knows that she made the right decision.

Beca is lost in her own world, consumed by her own thoughts, when the bedroom door opens abruptly, Riley toddling through it, with Chloe following closely behind.

Instantly, Beca sits up from her position laid front-down on she and Chloe’s bed, bright grin stretching naturally across her lips.

“I see someone has way too much energy for this time of night, huh?” Beca muses, hopping down from the bed to lean over toward Riley. She scoops her up easily in her arms, lifting her onto the mattress. Beca climbs up beside her, rolling onto her side, and brushes her fingers through Riley’s soft curls.

“Riley Mitchell? Ready to sleep at a _normal_ time? Where have you been the last two years?” Chloe teases, brow raising as she trudges toward the bathroom. Chloe looks just as exhausted as Beca is, but they both know they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Twenty-one months!” Beca corrects toward the now-closed bathroom door.

Riley echoes her words a little less audibly, and Beca nods her head. “Exactly. We don’t let mommy add to your age. You’re still a little baby,” she frowns.

At that, Riley lets out a shrill giggle, head shaking gently. “No, mama. I big girl!”

Beca cannot help but fondly roll her eyes, studying their daughter with an adoring gaze. “You sure are. When’d that happen, huh?” She scrambles onto her knees, scooping Riley up quickly, then lays her down in her lap, proceeding to gently tickle her sides.

If it was anybody else’s child laughing as loudly, Beca would want to stuff socks inside her ears. But Riley’s shrill, high-pitched giggle is like music to Beca; it is infectious, and it has her laughing, too.

“What are you two doing?” Chloe questions as she exits the bathroom, hands planting on her hips. Beca stops, though Riley is still giggling, and Beca glances toward her wife to study her amused expression. “I thought this was winding down time?”

Riley’s small fingers stretch out to poke Beca’s side, evidently her attempt at tickling back, so Beca makes sure to laugh accordingly, pretending to try to squirm away.

“Oh, we’re tickling mama?” Chloe asks with a devilish smile. She begins to approach the bed, and Beca shuffles further back.

“Yes!” Riley squeals, poking at Beca’s side again. “Mommy help!”

One day, they really are going to have to learn to say no to Riley, and Beca silently hopes that that day is now. Unfortunately, she has no such luck, and soon Chloe is playfully tickling at her other side, with Beca rolling on the bed much to the delighted squeals of both her wife and daughter.

“You’re both horrible,” Beca teases once they finally let up and Beca can catch her breath.

“Mommy hobble,” Riley states in an effort to pass the blame, to which Beca grins just as smugly as Chloe had.

“Right, mommy’s the most horrible,” Beca teases, reaching out to gently grasp Chloe’s sides. Carefully, she tugs her down beside her, until Chloe is laying on her side, with Beca sitting up behind her. Riley sits contentedly in front of them, legs stretched out and small feet touching Chloe’s front.

“What does Miss Riley think about going to bed?” Chloe asks, reaching forward to gently run her fingers over Riley’s belly. She still has that adorable baby fat, so despite her petite size, her stomach sticks out slightly. It is a tickle spot for Riley, who giggles in response to Chloe’s touch.

“Mm,” Riley thinks for a moment, “Dis bed.” She pats the mattress with purpose.

“But what about Riley’s big girl bed?” Chloe tries. It is the same way as they try every night, but it is very, very rare that they actually get their way. Seriously, one of these days, they are going to _have_ to say no to her.

“No,” Riley shakes her head, patting the mattress again, “Dis bed.”

Chloe inhales a breath through her nose, before glancing over her shoulder toward Beca. Beca’s fingers are running delicately along the bare skin of Chloe’s arm, though she pauses at that, defeatedly shrugging a shoulder in response.

“Alright,” Chloe relents a little too easily, rolling onto her back. “But just for tonight.”

(How many nights have they been saying that now?

Beca has a feeling there will be many more nights to come, too.)

* * *

Somehow, their bed always turns into a small zoo at night time. Not only do they have Riley laid between them, taking up much more room with her arms spread out than her tiny body really needs, but her stuffed animals somehow always end up joining them, too.

Tonight, they are joined by at least four different cuddly animal plushies, one of which has worked its way uncomfortably under Beca’s back. She reaches beneath herself to tug out the stuffed bat, then holds it up above her, frowning up at it in thought.

“You too, huh?” Chloe chuckles quietly, her words whispered so as not to wake Riley.

Beca turns her head toward Chloe, frown still settled across her face. “Why do normal kids have teddy bears, but our kid has a stuffed vampire bat?” She stares up toward it again. “I mean, it literally has fangs.”

Chloe’s light, breathy chuckle sounds again. “She’s your kid.”

“Whatever,” Beca grumbles, though the statement sends a wave of contentment throughout her. Beca will never be over how much joy it fills her with to actually be a mom—or a mama; Beca remembers one time referring to herself as mom and Riley looking _so_ confused in response. “Who’s gonna take her to bed?”

Chloe shrugs a shoulder halfheartedly, and Beca can tell that she is tired. “I can do it,” she offers, shuffling over to cautiously climb from the bed.

“Actually, you might need some help with the zoo,” Beca decides, shuffling toward the edge on her side to stand now, too.

Chloe shoots her an appreciative smile through the room’s dim lighting, then leans down to slowly, carefully, scoop their sleeping baby into her arms. Beca begins to gather the stuffed animals—she was wrong before, there are _six_ —then quietly follows along behind Chloe as they head for Riley’s bedroom.

It is always a game of caution, carrying Riley to her own bed. Half of the time, she’ll remain asleep, and they are able to quietly tiptoe from the room without waking her. The other half, of course, her eyes open instantly, resulting in her being carried directly back to their bed in a bid to avoid a tantrum.

Tonight, apparently, is one of their lucky nights. While Riley stirs slightly as Chloe lays her carefully down in the bed, she doesn’t open her eyes. There is a mixture of pride and relief hovering between the two of them as they begin to slowly retreat from Riley’s bedroom, and both can finally breathe again once they make it back to their own bed.

“You know, we really shouldn’t be letting her do this every night,” Beca comments as she flops down lazily onto she and Chloe’s mattress.

Chloe reaches down to scoop Beca’s legs, until she can turn her onto her side of the bed. Immediately, Chloe climbs into her side, shuffling under the comforter. “I didn’t hear you trying to tell her no,” Chloe points out, brow raising slightly.

Chloe’s arm rises, until Beca shuffles closer. Her body presses to Chloe’s, and Chloe’s protective arm wraps tightly around her, with Beca’s head resting comfortably against her chest. She allows the rhythmic sound of Chloe’s familiar, gentle heartbeat to soothe her. “Yeah, well, we’re gonna have to eventually.”

“True,” Chloe agrees, soft fingertips dancing slowly over the exposed skin on Beca’s side, where her shirt has risen with her position. “We’re not gonna be able to do this when there are two of them.”

When they had first begun discussing a family, _seriously_ discussing it, their plan had been two children. They were each going to carry one—Chloe first thanks to Beca’s demanding job—and it had always seemed like such a sure, straightforward thing. Chloe has held up her end of the bargain, but two IVF attempts later, and Beca hasn’t been able to hold up hers. She exhales a small sigh, the tip of her finger beginning to draw lazy shapes against Chloe’s toned stomach. “ _If_ there are two of them,” Beca mumbles.

At that, Chloe’s other arm rises upward, for the second time today to settle her fingers delicately beneath Beca’s chin. Beca allows her to guide her face until they are able to make eye contact. “There’s going to be,” Chloe says in such a sure tone that Beca can’t help but believe it. “We’re gonna keep trying, Bec. It’s rare this works the first time.”

“It worked the second time for you,” Beca shoots back in a defeated tone, gaze dropping momentarily. It soon drifts back up to lock with Chloe’s, though. Chloe’s eyes, bright and blue, have always been such a comfort to Beca. She looks into Chloe’s eyes, and no matter where she is, Beca is suddenly home.

“And maybe the third time it’ll work for you,” Chloe says in a gentle tone.

“But what if it doesn’t?” Beca asks somewhat petulantly. “What about the plan? Two kids.”

Chloe’s shoulder shrugs gently. “If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. There are other ways to have children. Surrogacy, adoption…”

“Right,” Beca nods, gaze drifting downward once again.

She feels the way Chloe’s chest drops as she lets out a small sigh. Her voice is softer as she continues. “Beca, I hate that you’re beating yourself up about this.”

Beca’s head shakes gently in response, expression now even more defeated. “I just feel like I always somehow manage to let you down.”

At that, Chloe’s brows tug tightly together. “What? Beca, no, you never let me down,” she says with a small, sure shake of her head. “You are the perfect wife—”

Beca cuts her off with a scoff, eyes rolling as she echoes, “Perfect. Right. No such thing.”

“ _Our_ brand of perfect,” Chloe presses. “You have the biggest heart, and there is not a single day that goes by where I don’t feel so loved and protected by you. You’re an incredible mother to our daughter, and you’re going to be just as incredible with any future kids we have.”

Although Beca is still feeling down on herself, understandably so, it is difficult for her not to soften at that. It’s difficult for her not to take in everything Chloe is saying, and while Beca cannot help but doubt herself, it is so hard to continue to do so when Chloe sounds so sure.

“I mean it, Bec,” Chloe continues assuredly, “You have never let me down. We’ve been through way too much for me to ever think that you even could.”

There is a natural guard around Beca’s heart, a shell that keeps it tightly protected and locked away, but it crumbles for Chloe. And for Riley, of course. Sometimes, those walls will try to claw their way back up again, and sometimes they’ll almost do it, they’ll almost win, but then Chloe says everything Beca needs to hear, and suddenly she feels them falling away again. She feels it right now, as her gaze locks with the most familiar, comforting blue.

“It’s been a pretty wild ride, huh?” Beca mumbles, tone a little softer now.

Chloe chuckles quietly in response, head nodding shortly. “That’s… An understatement. But, God, there is no one else I want to be on this ride with.”

Although Beca can feel her cheeks heating up, darkening a few shades of red at the statement, she still rolls her eyes—she is still Beca Mitchell, after all. “You’re such a cheeseball,” she murmurs, though her expression is playful, her tone amused.

“You know it,” Chloe smirks proudly, releasing her gentle hold on Beca’s chin. Beca doesn’t look away. “You’ve known it for sixteen years now.”

Beca’s brows raise at that. “Jesus, sixteen years? How didn’t you get tired of me by now?”

“Oh, believe me, you’re hard work sometimes,” Chloe teases through another small chuckle. “But I’m not tired of you. I’m tired,” she admits, and Beca can see the lazy look in her eyes, the same one she is sure is mirrored right back at Chloe from her own, “But not tired of you.”

“Then maybe you should sleep,” Beca says, stretching forward to brush her lips against Chloe’s in a soft, chaste kiss, “Before you change your mind.”

“Right,” Chloe giggles quietly, easily returning the kiss. “And because we have an energetic almost-two year old who’s about to wake us up in a couple hours.”

The thought makes Beca feel even more exhausted, the way she openly grimaces making Chloe chuckle all over again. Gently, Beca leans her head until it is resting delicately against Chloe’s chest again, Chloe’s fingertips going right back to brushing comfortingly against her arm. “What if we start Bella on the babysitting training,” she murmurs, finger beginning to draw lazy shapes against Chloe’s stomach once more. “She can do the early morning shift.”

“Right,” Chloe giggles lightly, her voice so soft and sleep-laced that it sends an air of comfort throughout Beca’s entire body. “Like you’d let anyone take over morning duties. Remember when my mom tried to give us a break that one weekend, and you were up practically stalking them through the baby monitor to make sure she was doing everything right?”

“Whatever,” Beca grumbles quietly, Chloe’s gentle, breathy laugh in response vibrating against her ear as Beca remains pressed comfortably to Chloe’s chest. “Okay,” Beca murmurs, turning her face to push a gentle peck to Chloe’s chest through the fabric of her shirt. “Go to sleep.” She lets out a soft yawn, before mumbling, “I love you, Chlo.”

“I love you, too,” Chloe whispers in response, before the room around them grows quiet, save for their gentle breathing. It is not long before they are both drifting into a peaceful, much needed sleep.

The room is still dark when Beca wakes, so it cannot be too much later. She has moved around in her sleep to the point where she is no longer in Chloe’s arms, and has shuffled closer to her own side of the bed. Easily, though, Beca turns her body until she can curl it against Chloe’s, whose back is to her now. Lazily, her arm drapes over Chloe’s middle, and Beca feels the way Chloe’s body shuffles back more tightly against her own.

It is easy for her to drift back into that same peaceful sleep.

The next time Beca wakes, it is to the loud, shrill sound of Riley’s voice, yelling an abrupt, _“Mama! Mommy!”_ from her bedroom across the hall.

Immediately, the sound causes both to rouse, until they are stretching themselves awake.

Their daughter is impatient, especially in the mornings—especially when she realizes they have taken her back to her own bed at some point during the night like the utter traitors they are—so it is not surprising when she shrieks both of their names again.

“What time is it?” Beca mumbles sleepily, lazily glancing toward the clock positioned beside their bed. She groans openly as she sees the time. Then again, it is after seven, which is something of a feat for Riley.

Beca registers the sound of footsteps padding from the next room over, before she hears a gentle knock on the door. Cautiously, Aubrey pops her head around, her matted hair something Beca would make fun of if she wasn’t so sleepy. In all of the years Beca has known Aubrey Posen, she can count on one hand (and still have fingers left over) the amount of times she has seen Aubrey not entirely put together. Right now is one of them.

“Good morning,” Aubrey says somewhat groggily. “Do you want me to get her?”

Beca stretches her body again, but proceeds to sit up with a small shake of her head. “No, it’s okay,” she promises through a long yawn. She shuffles toward the edge of the bed, lazily climbing out. “I’ve got her.”

“Okay,” Aubrey nods, flashing the two a small smile, before ducking from the room.

Beca has begun to pad toward the door, but hears the sound of Chloe abruptly clearing her throat behind her. Beca pauses to glance over her shoulder, gaze landing on the smug expression plastered right the way across Chloe’s sleepy face. “Remember what I said,” Chloe says, tone laced with amusement, “About the morning duties?”

Beca’s nose wrinkles in response, pointed glare shot Chloe’s way. “Shut up,” she grumbles, exiting the room to the sound of Chloe’s amused giggle.

Time for another day in the Mitchell household—the four bedroom, five bathroom house she and Chloe picked out together, in which they’ll raise their family—Beca thinks.

She also thinks that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re reading from start to finish and want to include the additional one-shots in order, now is where [Go Save The World, I'll Be Around](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290176) would come in. The time jump can be worked out from Riley's age!

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the [gif set](https://chloebeale.tumblr.com/post/613676238246150144/bechloe-angst-au-they-were-broken-up-beca-was) this fic is derived from, and [this is me](http://chloebeale.tumblr.com)!


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